The Night of the Forlorn Waltz
by Sambev
Summary: Happiness is something people choose for themselves, but sometimes they forget it's a choice.
1. Prologue

(AN. I'll admit the vocals in this song sometimes crack me up, but it's still beautiful. Sicut Erat is from a Latin Prayer and means more or less "just as it was" which will be more significant in later chapters. I've already finished the rough draft of this story, and I'll post as I polish each chapter. I'll try to watch my spelling and grammar more since that was an issue in my last story, by the way, I appreciate those who commented on the silly little thing. I haven't seen a single episode since my last story either... ha, but I have been reading others fanfics! And I mean to review them as well, so I... well I wont start tearing my story apart just because I'm afraid you will. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!)

The Night of the Forlorn Waltz: A Tale of Classical Murder

Prologue: Sicut Erat – Vivaldi

Artie tried to appear solemn upon his chestnut mare. The brim of his hat was tipped down as he rode towards the late afternoon sun with three of the President's Majors. Their own faces were stony and as 'all-business' as their pressed uniforms and grey mares.

Yet, to Artemus, the autumn sun could not be a more perfect shade of apricot yellow. The gravel road was padded with leaves like a quilt and the air fragrant with overripe apples. It seemed to him that he should be waltzing though those apple trees with a beautiful girl, not heading back to the train with bad news.

Counterfeiting in Missouri was, not surprisingly, out of control. Nearly every town with a blossoming bank also had a blossoming counterfeit ring. That meant there was work to do, and lots of it, for Artie and Jim. Maybe they could squeeze some excitement from it by going undercover to find the production source for the fake bills… But the military and local law would get all the fun, he and Jim would only get to point and watch. 

For a moment, thinking such dull thoughts made Artie almost felt as solemn as his well trained face portrayed. Yet, Artie couldn't contain his amused laughter as his mare greedily plucked an apple from a low hanging branch, causing a cascade of apples to rain down on the four men. The three majors turned to stare in Artemus' direction with their high-strung mustaches twitching, but Artie only shrugged, still sporting a lopsided grin and nodded ahead, as they had reached the crossroads where their paths would part.

"Until we meet again gentlemen, it's been a pleasure." Artemus said somewhat theatrically as he slid from his saddle. He gave them a proper salute despite the slight sarcasm of his grin and waited until they had disappeared from sight on the narrow tree engulfed road.

His own road was much wider; a wagon road that led between the train tracks and Sullivan, the town he had come from. The apple orchards tapered out ahead, and the air in the green and yellow pastures that lead into the hills ahead seemed so much warmer and more significant, as if gold dust hung upon it, than the air where he stood.

Artie took a deep breath causing the silk in his embroidered vest to sparkle as his chest swelled. He leaned against his mare and smiled, rubbing her nose. Although the road led to such a boring discussion, and cold, dull months of work and winter, at that moment it held a prospect Artie longed for. In a moment of boyish enthusiasm Artemus took off running, purposely stirring up colored leaves in his wake as he waltzed with the golden air.

The chestnut mare trotted behind, plucking apples off the road here and there, as her human twirled up the road casting long shadows behind him.

She had to do a lot of hard work in her occupation, more than other horses, and it was sometimes dangerous. But she had to admit, having a human that knew how to enjoy the small things in life, like a real horse, made it worth the while.


	2. Chapter 1

(AN: Holy mine, okay, let's just dive right into it shall we? a. I hope you noticed the rating. This is heavy, and I apologize if any of this makes you uncomfortable, but it gets lighter, so please stick with me! b. Thank you Maurobar, I'm glad you enjoyed it. And thank you Challengerspet or Artiespet, whichever, I'll just call you Pet, I've put off my biology homework so I could work on this for you. My interest in the lower intestine is considerably null anyway;). c. Oh, this song, June Barcarolle, is beautiful and appropriate in sound I think. Doesn't your heart ache listening to it? I'm a big fan of Tchaikovsky, and you should be too. d. Lastly, brace yourselves and enjoy!)

Chapter one: June Barcarolle - Tchaikovsky

Before Artie could even finish brushing his mare Jim's stallion was nibbling at the saddle bag hung over his shoulder. Artemus couldn't bring himself to mind the impatience and produced an apple for black horse; that's why he had brought them for after all. He offered one last to his own mare, but she refused, bumping it away with her nose. Artie couldn't blame her; she had quite enough on the way back. _In fact she looks a little stuffed_, Artie thought with a grin and patted her neck.

After pouring the rest of the apples in a pail for Jim's stallion Artie left the stable for the parlor car. His cheeks were still rosy from his exploits on the way home, but he would try his best to look like he hadn't had too much fun. Besides, how would he explain!

"I'm back! Jim, you'll be un…" Artie rounded the corner into the parlor and stopped. _You'll be unhappy when you hear what we'll be doing for the rest of the year… _

His face went blank because his mind hadn't yet assembled itself around an emotion. Artemus wanted to back out of the room, but his boots had tacked him to the floor. He wanted to get back on his horse and find the right train, because he must have gotten on the wrong one. Were there many? He wanted to find out when he'd stopped to rest and fallen asleep, because he was sure this couldn't be real.

_No_. Artemus Gordon wasn't a stupid man, nor was he the sort that couldn't deal with the truth when he faced it… Stood in it… Artie found he was clutching the door frame and forced himself to let go and move forward.

The faithful sun had set except for a few small slivers that just touched the floor in delicate places. There were no lamps lit, so Artie knew it must have happened before there was need… three hours at the more recent. He put a hand to his forehead, pressing the heel hard over his brow, then drew it through his dark hair. Yet it was so fresh… and so much…

The blood on the lavish décor of the parlor car was…contradictive, to say the least, and so unwelcome. Artie would have to light a lamp to make sure that the crumpled mass in the blue suit really was Jim now that the last little rays of light had snuck away. Those bloody rays would be warming China and Japan now, Artie mused, swallowing a sick feeling that was rising up his throat.

His hand reached for the ornate lamp that sat nearby on an end table but he pulled it back before his fingers could reach the familiar string. Instead he walked the far way around the car, giving wide birth to the body that slumped there, faceless and no more, and came to the telegraph. Artie did not sit, for he could see the dark smears on the chair.

The first telegram was sent to Sullivan, with instructions that it should be delivered to the Majors' at their hotel. It told them to come immediately to the train. The second was sent to Washington:

_West murdered _STOP

_Requesting men_ STOP

_Gordon _STOP

He didn't know what else to say but that. He was still holding onto the brief hope that he was dreaming… The parlor seemed monochrome, like a picture in a book. He did not know how this had happened in the midst of his happiness… Artie shook his head slightly… he couldn't even begin to think of who would do this… or if the man had even left the train… but he wasn't going to let himself be daft enough to believe he was only having a nightmare…

With dull eyes Artie reached for his gun and realized he was gotten blood on his hands. But from where? _Oh there_, it was on the table too. Why was there so much? On purpose? To make some kind of sick example of Jim West? Artie wiped his hand off on his red handkerchief, then dropped the thing to the floor and pulled his pistol from its holster.

Now in complete darkness Artie again took the long way around the parlor, trusting his familiarity with the room to guide him around furniture. Slowly he opened each door, but somehow his anxiety at the potential killer was numbed. Was all this meant to shock him? Well, it had worked. Besides, he found nothing. All the shapes of each room stood out in shades of grey once his eyes adjusted. Everything was familiar, in place, and waiting for their owners; somehow oblivious to the crime that had occurred.

He returned again to the parlor, his eyes sewn to the now colorless shape of his partner, searching, yet unfocused. He didn't really want to see.

Then Artemus found himself outside, his large eyes luminous in the autumn night as he sank onto the ground. Acutely he was surprised his legs had held him as long as they did. Perhaps he had been waiting for Jim to reassemble himself, stand up and say 'gottcha!'

The frigid air was embracing; since it was the only sensation he could feel momentarily, inside and out, he had to welcome it. Artie sat beside the tracks fingering the grass in muted shock until the Majors, with their high-strung mustaches, arrived on their grey horses.

Lamps and hoof beats grew brighter and louder before coming to a stop, some half an hour later. _They made good time_. They dismounted and stood before him, holding their lamps high. One offered Artie a hand and pulled the agent to his feet.

"You say your partner has been murdered?" The senior of the three asked him, the man sounded disbelieving, but anyone who knew of James West was bound to be.

"Yes Major." Artie answered in a dull but steady voice. "But I haven't… fully inspected the scene yet."

They stood in the glow of the lamps and the looked at the train. It no longer seemed such a luxurious and envious thing as it had when the Majors first met West and Gordon upon it. "Major Moore, you look around the area with Mr. Gordon. We'll go inspect inside." The senior grabbed the remaining man's shoulder and directed him up the steps and they went inside. From outside their lamps bobbed past, showing brief views of drying smears.

Gordon followed General Moore, who made an act of going to the engine car, where they found its engineer asleep. It took several minutes of shaking the man's shoulder to get him to wake up. Not surprisingly, the man had heard nothing; no gun shots, no screams, nor any approaching horses.

"That's unlikely." The general said with his arms crossed, while Artie lingered back in the door frame looking out at the dark prairies, which seem almost purple, from the window. The general seemed happy to arrest the engineer, but Artie knew better.

"Did you smell anything?" He asked in a voice dark and lowered like his eyes.

The engineer paused for a moment, scratching at his beard then smiled a sad but innocent smile, "Why yes I did, Mr. Gordon, a sweet smell like some of the stuff I smell near your lab on the way to the galley…"

Artie only nodded his approval at the statement.

Moore insisted on searching the rest of the area, but it was unrevealing. All the soft grasses and tiny flowers had been trampled by Jim and himself, so the coming and going of a murderer could not be found.

Soon, the four met up again outside, now with the engineer in tow.

"Well, you're right Mr. Gordon, that was James West, we're sure."

_Was?_ Artie thought, _Oh Lord. _Sometime then the word _why_ began echoing through his mind. The steady chant followed him as he and the engineer saddled Artie and Jim's horses so they could follow Moore back to town. The other two would continue their investigation until the proper forces had arrived.

Artie hardly noticed as he was led to the local inn, and escorted to a room by Major Moore. He thanked the man, and dropped onto the bed. If any of them suspected Artie they hadn't said a word. Shaking his head against the sheets Artie tried to think of any way he could have, _should have_, foreseen the attack but found nothing.

_The air outside was misty and cold, but inside Artie had started a warm blaze and sat before it sipping his coffee. Jim could be heard in his room shuffling about, getting ready to leave. Artie used this moment of solitude to work on his best 'neglected' face. If he didn't get to leave the train then at least he could try to make Jim feel badly about it, or that's how he chose to rationalize anyway. _

_Jim entered the parlor, pulling his blue jacket down at the waist. "Morning, Artie." He said, glancing in his partner's direction and headed straight to the galley. Then, just as he disappeared around the frame his head and shoulder's popped back and took in Artie's 'neglected face', a hint of dimples appeared, and he was gone. His partner's melancholy could wait until Jim had had a cup of coffee. _

_Artie looked out the window as his partner sat in a nearby chair, and waited until he felt Jim's green eyes settle on him. Then he turned his own distracted gaze into the room, and pressed his lips into a thin line of unhappiness. Jim sighed, "Alright Artie, what do you want?" _

_"Hmm?" Artie was secretly pleased that Jim had taken the bait, "What do you mean?" _

_"You're upset because you have to stay here while I go to Sullivan." _

_"I don't see why I should have to stay, there's nothing to do." Maybe Jim hadn't taken the bait, but at least he acknowledged that Artie had tried. _

_"Except wire Richmond, and wait for a wagon to arrive with the supplies we ordered." _

_"It doesn't take all day to send a wire, and the engineer can take care of the supplies." _

_"It does if you wait for the reply, and that isn't the engineer's job." _

_Artie stopped and tried to think, he was loosing this. _

_"Plus, they're expecting me." Jim said and smiled, but Artie wasn't entirely sure what the smirk was for. _

_Artie grinned back over his mug, "Military men love surprises, Jim." _

_"Coulda fooled me." Jim took a drink of his coffee and followed Artie's leading gaze back to the window which had fogged. Artie ran the cuff of his sleeve across it, revealing the grey morning air. It looked so dreary now but Artie knew it would dissipate by noon. "Okay, Artie." _

_"Okay what?" Artie, in his mind, gave a great bow. _

_"You can go, if you want to spend a boring day with three mustaches and a bank manager." _

_"Oh, but they're expecting you Jim." _

_"Military men love surprises Artie." _

_Artie grinned and stood up, he was already dressed, and headed towards the stable car. Behind him Jim was hiding his amused smiled by shaking his head in mock exasperation. He had no idea why Artie would rather spend the day in a bank when he could lounge around the parlor car instead. Now Jim would have time to finish his book. _

The morning was very new when it woke Artemus, although he suspected he had only been half asleep. He had no trouble recollecting why he was in a strange bed, or rather on; he'd never even gotten undressed. Nor did he have any trouble remembering why his chest ached; only this morning it hurt worse than the night before.

_Oh but they're expecting you Jim_, Artie remembered without opening his eyes. That meant whoever had murdered Jim West the night before had been expecting Artie to be there instead. Artie rolled onto his side, away from the bloody rays of sun that had circled the earth and come back again to torment him.


	3. Chapter 2

(AN: Sorry about slaughtering Jim, but, lol, surprise! His pants are a little tight but I really have nothing against him! Anyway, thanks again for the review you two! I appreciate it, I know not reviewing a story doesn't mean you didn't like it, but it's encouraging and helpful anyhow. Hopefully I can continue to surprise everyone, because I get a kick out of it! And about my song choice; uninspired name for a beautiful piece. As if Vivaldi ever did anything that wasn't beautiful, boring maybe, but never… ear melting! Enjoy all!)

Chapter two: Concerto in G Minor – Vivaldi

"Gordon?"

Artemus was hunched next to the coffee table; the very one he'd sat at yesterday morning with Jim. Cautiously he pushed some white powder into a small test tube recovered from his lab with the nib of a pen. Careful not to inhale any, he vaguely discovered that is was sweet scented. _A knock out powder, the same that must have been used on the engineer._

Putting the engineer to sleep with drugs was one thing, and not so difficult to do. The man retrieved his water from a canteen in the back of the car, and could easily have been spiked. Drugging Jim was another thing. Who could have snuck in without being noticed? Or had it been done at some later time? Or had he not been drugged at all? Then that lead to the question of Jim being over powered…

Artie had been promised a full account of the autopsy. He was also invited to attend but had to decline, his curiosity didn't extend that far and he was more than will to trust Washington's men to do it. 

Artie put a stopper in the tube and pocketed it, hoping he would have time to inspect it later. The air smelled metallic. All the furniture had smears of deep copper; dried blood. So much, and it would have taken so much work to achieve such a gruesome effect. But for what purpose?

The beautiful ornate furniture was ruined. That didn't matter. It did matter that he could no longer look at the parlor without the image of that mangled figure slumped in the shadows. It… Jim… was no longer there. Colonel Richmond had it… Jim… sent to Washington for the funeral and autopsy. Artie felt a little ill; it would be a closed casket funeral.

Artie was certain now that he was meant to be It, a victim of no consideration. For Jim it would have been a symbol of rage, and hate, and revenge. On some suppressed level Artie felt those things as well, he felt rage and hate, and he _would_ have revenge, but somehow dealing with all this made him feel like a fly covered in spider webs… It was tiring and he could hardly find the energy to handle everything that needed his attention.

"Gordon, are you listening?" Richmond appeared at his side, grasping Artie's arm, he would have directed the agent to sit somewhere, but there was no where suitable. The parlor had become a crime scene, like a set on a stage, all the lavish furniture and luxury became unreal and untouchable. "Have you found something?"

"Yeah, some kind of sleeping powder, seems like a basic formula…" Artie retrieved the tube and showed the Colonel, who only looked vaguely interested. "Did you found anything?"

"Nothing really. The murderer must have worn gloves…or had practice." Richmond studied Artie's face. As ever the Agent was smartly dressed, shaved and hair combed back, but his eyes were at once smoldering and listless in a disturbing way that Richmond didn't know how to interpret. "Why don't we talk outside?"

The two men carefully stepped around the group of soldiers and detectives, still conducting a thorough inspection, and emerged in the cold open air. To Artie, it seemed to hang more heavily with winter than it had the day before. He leaned against the rail and tried to let the prairie grass weave answers before him. It knew what had happened, just like the ruined furniture and Jim's memory knew. At least Jim might have, he could have left this world as confused about his end as Artie was now.

"We have no leads then, not yet anyway." Artie muttered, a slight wind ruffled his hair and carried the scent of an on coming rain.

Richmond nodded, "Only old enemies."

"Big list."

"You know best Artemus. Who is the most likely person to have hated West enough to murder him in that fashion?"

"No one." Artie ran his hand over his face, his voice had come out as more of a bark than he'd intended. Perhaps that was the rage, just starting to peep out. "No enemy Jim's ever known would murder him so unfairly. They would spring a trap, bait him, play with him…"

"Except this one."

Artie shook his head, and grinned briefly at the Colonel. "No. See how simple it is. Whoever is responsible for this hadn't intended to kill Jim." He raised a hand silence the Colonel's obvious retort, and continued. "They had instead sent a lackey to kill Jim West's partner, in order to taunt Jim, thus beginning a game. Whoever the hired muscle was must have only known where I was supposed to be, not what I, or even Jim looked like."

The slightly slack look on the Colonel's face showed that he understood. He tried to put a hand on Artie's shoulder but the agent brushed him off, pretending not to notice. Artie turned instead to face away from the sun and the shifting prairies to where oaks began to sprout in the beginnings of a forest. The trees had been searched, but the constantly falling leaves hid anything it might know…

The wind whistled, seeming to foretell a storm. That would explain the weather the day before… always glorious before a storm…Artie could hardly remember now. "I just can't understand this… Why would anyone with such a vendetta to torment Jim let such a trivial mistake happen?"

"Trivial… Mr. Gordon?"

Artemus turn towards the Colonel, his eyes narrowed. He wasn't sure how he wanted to answer. In all honesty, it hurt to think that Jim had died in his place, but… there was more… he just couldn't seem to articulate the feelings into thoughts at the moment…

"Yes trivial, Colonel, the murderer must have been given a description of me, or had seen us before… even if he was just a hired hit man, he may have even met us…" Artie's voice was tapering into a whisper, more voicing his thoughts to himself than the Colonel.

"Well, don't feel obligated, but we should have one more look around the place, then head back to Washin…"

"Major Shepherd!" The voice was rather dim, coming from the other side of the train, but urgent enough in tone to garner everyone's attention. Artie was already reaching for the door, straining to hear the soldier speak over what sounded like strange laughter or sobs… "We found this man in the woods about a half mile north of here… he must be responsible…"

Artie strode back into the train, his gaze professionally expressionless. The sob like laughter continued, and Artie shouldered through the crowding men who blocked his path from this new man Artie wanted to see so desperately. There was a small part of Artemus that feared he wouldn't be able to stop himself if his temper was roused, but that all depended on the other's attitude.

"If I may..." He said, or growled, loosing patience, and finally broke through to find the man sitting on the divan, unconscious or uncaring of the dark stains on the yellow velvet. Several men parted respectfully to give Artemus access. But as quickly as the throat-clenching hate had uncoiled inside the agent it diminished, replaced with a nauseas disappointment and the unconscious desire to just lie down and pretend this wasn't happening to him.

The man on his divan was, thought Artie with growing anxiety, clearly involved. Yet, just because he matched the décor so well in blood stained skin and attire didn't mean he was responsible… This man could not be the answer to the murder of James West.

The man was of undetermined age; his eyes were small and wide-set, with a lipless gaping mouth and the low brow of an obvious birth defect. He teetered inside his lumpy, overweight frame, laughing and sobbing, and clutching short fat fingers at knees of his blood and dirt soaked trousers.

Artie swallowed, trying not to cringe at the smell of feces and drool that joined the already present smell of blood. He realized Richmond and Masterson were waiting for him to give his verdict on the man, so he shook his head. "He couldn't have… at least not alone… against Jim? Never… he must have been a device… or…" There were so many scenarios, Artie could construct a hundred different ways this sickly person before him was involved. "Someone must have been directing him…"

Richmond, behind with his arms crossed over his chest looked, slightly disgusted when he interjected, "but he also fits what you said before, about the murderer not knowing you were supposed to be where Jim was…"

Artie couldn't think of an answer for that so he ignored the comment. Instead he leaned slightly forward and caught the half-lidded gaze of the other. The man stuck his heavy wet tongue out and licked dried blood from his chin, still rocking and laugh-sobbing. "Listen boy," Artie said, "have you been here before?"

The boy didn't answer for a moment, and when he did it was complete gibberish, "Meh bess di' meh he' befe'." Artie couldn't pretend to understand, but the other also nodded his weak chin vigorously, so Artie had to assume the answer was yes.

Artie fingered the buttons on his blue vest, unaware of the nervous gesture, "Who were you here with?"

"Wi'?"

"Yes. Who were you here with?"

"Wi' bess, wi bess, den' uh…. Me uh, wa…. Wi da… n'… me wa…"

Artie ran a hand through his hair and let his fist rest against his mouth, "With your boss?"

"Me bess, me wi' bess, me bess…"

_I can't handle this right now…_Artie thought, staring down as the man's weak chin began to glisten with drool. He continued babbling. His boss, he was saying… Artie interrupted, trying another question. "What happened here? Do you remember what happened here?"

The man reached for Artemus, or so Artie thought. Instinctively he recoiled from the filthy hands, but realized the man wasn't trying to touch him, but show him his hands. Artie caught the plump wrist and turned the palms up. The skin was muddy, but beneath that the finger tips were black; scorched.

"His fingers were burnt." Artie said to the men behind him and his stomach flipped, "that's why we couldn't find any finger prints…"

He tried for a moment more to listen to the limited speech and what little he understood led to nothing. "T-take…" Artie took a breath, stood up straight and began to speak again but Richmond interrupted and Artemus was only too glad to let him.

"We aren't going to get anything from this man," Richmond said, "take him back to town. Get him cleaned up, feed him and see if anyone knows where he came from or who's responsible for him. Then we'll have a detective try to speak with him again. Whoever isn't doing that, finish inspecting this area then have this train sent back to Washington to be cleaned up…"

Artemus didn't hear the rest… his mind had tuned them out, and for the moment he felt nothing at all except a whisper of cold air that no one else seemed to notice. He backed away from the disturbed man on gold divan and let the gap of men close him out. Instead he looked around the parlor and took a shallow breath.

This had been his home, and now it seemed so foreign. He hardly recognized the things that he had come to look forward to seeing at the end of the day. The telegraph, had he seen it before? The bar. He'd never actually used those cups had he? More over, the man he had come to connect with this setting had been turned inside out within it… and he didn't know why…

He didn't know why Jim had been murdered. Artemus didn't realize until this moment how much he'd come to depend on the life he'd built for himself on the Wanderer. Having that gold velvet divan, or finding Jim sipping coffee on it in the mornings… Little things which were familiar and predictable…

And so easy to loose.

_Artie, why do you always have to be so emotional?_ Jim's voice played through his head when he felt his throat grow tight and his eyes burned, and he'd been determined not to fall apart in from on the Colonel and these men but…

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as the man, only a tool Artie was certain, was lead to the door. But that man-tool had one more thing to say, "Wa'on."

Everyone froze. After a brief moment of chilly silence Richmond asked, "Did he say 'wagon'?"

Artie could barely nod in confirmation as the new possibilities struck him. _"Except wire Richmond, and wait for a wagon to arrive with the supplies we ordered." _He remembered Jim saying the night before.

Artie went to his horse so he could follow a detective and several others to the general store in Sullivan, the one he and Jim and ordered from, his mind twisted Jim's voice, "_Except wire Richmond, and wait for a wagon to arrive and have me killed instead of you."_

He knew Jim would never look at the situation that way, but his heart twisted. At least, Artie thought, shuddering without realizing he had forgotten his coat, he was close to solving this.

"Clarence!" The clerk said in surprise when the disturbed man came limping through the door, clean and grinning.

"Hob, hob hob!" The man, Clarence answered.

The Clerk's surprised doubled, then tripled, then turned to apprehension when behind Clarence came a Colonel, three soldiers, a detective and another tall man who hung near the back with an icy look.

"Has he gotten into trouble?"

"Are you responsible for him?" Richmond asked.

"No, not really, but I try to look out for him when he's around here." The clerk had a gentle face, exposed by his bald head.

Everyone stared, except Clarence who wandered near the counter clapping his hands. "He has nothing to do with this." Artie muttered, with his arms crossed over his chest. Richmond had told him to keep quiet, despite his partnership with Jim and the nature of the crime, the responsibility of the investigation had been put on Richmond and his team, Artie was only tagging along until they reached Washington.

Richmond gave Artie a quick warning glance, but the clerk was now looking at Artie with more interest. "Oh, Mr. Gordon, how are you? Did you get your supplies in good time? That new hand, you met 'im, he's a little unreliable, didn't even show up this morning…"


	4. Chapter 3

(AN: I like this chapter, personally. Anyway, I think I answered all your questions Maurobar, at least the ones that needed to be answered, lol, and thanks. I had to slip a few new sentences in this chapter to make sure everything was clear, so I'm glad you asked. After reading this for the umpteenth time I found most of the last part to be funnier than I intended, so if it cracks any of you up you are not alone!)

Chapter three: Pathetique - Beethoven

The smell of rain persisted, but never fell. The fog that was slowly descending over this particular stretch of Missouri was the closest thing Artie was likely to encounter. The sky seemed like one perfectly blank white canvas that would continue swelling until it simply fell to Earth and drowned everyone. Artie would be in Washington by then, and if he had any sort of luck so would the man that murdered his partner. 

Behind bars.

Artie surged forward on his horse, panting slightly as cold misty air engulfed him. The fog sopped his dark hair flat, and was slowly permeating his clothing. His horse was wheezing from the fog as she ran, but Artie pushed her on. Richmond was likely to figure out what he was up too soon, and he didn't want to waste time.

The new hand lived up north, the clerk said, said he didn't mind the two mile ride both ways each day. He had been letting Clarence ride with him in the wagon. _How brotherly,_ Artemus thought, sneering slightly. Take a man who didn't know right from wrong, or right from San Francisco for that matter, use him and hurt him… probably told that Clarence that it was a game. Murder James West, or Artemus Gordon, whoever it was supposed to be then leave the boy in the woods to take the blunt of the crime and die. _Fun._

Artemus pushed his damp hair off his forehead and slowed his horse. Just ahead he was rewarded with the outline of a small cabin. This man killed his partner in cold, premeditated murder. If only he hadn't made so many mistakes. Artie steered his horse up the muddy drive and heard another horse whinny nearby.

Pulling his pistol free Artemus held it by his shoulder and stopped his mare. The cabin was plain, with nothing outside but a neat stack of firewood. Artie hardly had time to notice those small details hidden in the fog when a rider came around the side into sight. The leather saddle bags were bulging on the horse's sides. The man had his collar turned up and the bill of his hat pulled down, and he was unaware of Artemus' dangerous gaze.

Two voices in Artie's head shouted simultaneously _shoot him!_ and _stop him_. The first wanted revenge, Artie didn't recognize this voice as part of his upbringing, and it bothered him that it didn't seem to care whether he was even looking at the right man or not. The second was more like himself; it wanted to see the right man sentenced to life in jail, and wanted answers.

While Artie spent a brief moment struggling with indecision the man had noticed Artie's figure looming in the fog like a ghost and took off into a thicket of trees. Despite this hasty action practically screaming guilt, Artie managed to look outside the blood in his eyes and set into the chase, looking for the opportunity to make a non-lethal shot.

_Why would you want to kill Jim? Or me? _

Artie jerked the reins to the side when the man turned around briefly and shot over his shoulder. It was a wide shot, probably only meant to scare him. Aspens and oaks blurred as the man navigated through them with Artie behind mimicking his moves.

_Why did you go through so much trouble to ruin my home and make me hate you? _

Artemus was closing the distance between them, cautiously keeping some attention on ground for roots or gopher holes between the trees.

_Why go through so much trouble to gain my attention? Getting the job as a Waggoner in a town we were scheduled to come to…_Artie had gotten so close the man's figure was no longer veiled by the fog. _Get a man who could not betray you, burn off his finger prints so the blame wouldn't come back to you at all… _

The man looked back over his shoulder at Artemus, leaning low over his horse's neck. There was nothing of the stranger's face to be seen but a black open circle of his mouth below the brim of his hat. Artie strained his eyes, wondering if the man had been present when he and Jim had been at the general store ordering the supplies, but no, Artie only remembered the clerk being there.

_But after all that work you didn't even get the right man… what were you expecting to happen if you had? _

Artie's shoulders tensed so suddenly that his neck ached, yet he hadn't articulated the thought that provoked it. _Surely you expected me… or Jim to figure it out by this time, but you were leaving so late after when you could have left long ago…_ For a moment he could hardly breathe as the apprehension settled on him.

_ Is this part of your plan?_

The man glanced back again as if to confirm this suspicion. Artie could have shot the man squarely in the back of the head if he pleased, but ahead he saw the ground dip into a thicket of trees. The rider was lying flat, both hands on the reins… waiting…

Muttering a quick curse Artemus pulled the reins back just as the rider steered his horse abruptly to the side. The stranger's horse turned easily as if it anticipated the move, but Artie's mare did not. The ground fell away to a deep muddy trench, hidden in the fog and tall grass. Braying in fear the chestnut mare slid in the mud before tossing herself backwards and away from the trap. For one brief terrifying moment as Artie hung over it, the trench seemed a big black hole like the mouth of his clever enemy.

Artie let go of the reins and tossed himself to the side when he saw the sky and realized his horse was falling back; unable to get traction in the mud. Artie landed on his shoulder at the edge, his legs falling afterwards into the gorge. Sliding in the mud Artie began to sink down into the mouth, clawing at clumps of grass as he tried to pull himself back to safety.

Slightly embarrassed, his mare rolled to her side, reorganizing her long slender legs back on the ground. Her human struggled, sliding in the mud away into the darkness. It occurred to her then that he probably didn't want to go down into that black hole anymore than she did. So she grabbing a mouthful of his vest, she pulled him out and dropped him on his face in the mud.

Gasping Artie struggled to his feet, hands slipping in the black mud, deceptively covered in colorful leaves. His knees were shaking so hard he could hardly stand, but he struggled up, took the reins and led them onto the grass where the land could not sink beneath them. Then he collapsed onto his back with an exasperated howl. His mare looked down on him and their dark eyes met; they both were trembling and wheezing, damp and covered in mud…

Artemus grinned, how ridiculous they looked... His mare seemed to blur as she began to nibble the grass around by his head. How ridiculous all this was…_ That man, was he waiting for me to show up at the cabin? Was that the second half of the plan? Spread one all over the train…Drown the second in mud where no one would ever find him…_

_How ridiculous…_Artemus thought, choking on a sob he didn't know he had been holding back. He couldn't even look at the perfect unblemished white sky without seeing the pile of red and blue on the floor of the train, Clarence's scorched fingers and that black hole of a mouth mocking him. How was Artie supposed to out-smart an enemy who could predict his actions so effortlessly?


	5. Chapter 4

(AN: Hey! Thanks for sticking with me! Now let's see if my grammar has improved, I put some coma splices out of their misery, broke up some run-on's, wasn't really sure what I was looking for... but I think I've made some progress, just keep bugging me about it. Rereading this chapter gave me some new ideas for later chapters, hee, can't believe I didn't think of it before! Now I'm all excited! Enjoy and thanks for the reviews!)

Chapter Four: Mandolin Concerto in C Major - Vivaldi

Artemus leaned his chin on his upturned palm and watched the distance between him and Washington shrink. This train was not the Wanderer; just a regular passenger train that rocked a little more and carried dozens of other people who saw fit to go to Washington for one reason or another. The Wanderer, on the other hand, was following several days behind so it could be cleaned and readied for Artemus to return to. 

As if he could.

New carpet, upholstery, paint… and whatever else needed replacing to make the parlor car look normal would hardly disguise Artie's tarnished memories. Whoever they sent him back to the train with would not help either. Returning to the train with a new partner was one of those possibilities Artie had refused to acknowledge over the years. It was a depressing thought he didn't want to waste time dwelling on when he could simply enjoy what he had.

The train shuddered as it turned causing Artie's hand to slip, and his head dropped forward as if he had fallen asleep. He sat up and crossed his arms; glad no one was with him to see that.

He knew Jim could die, that is if Artie didn't go first. Or one of them would be exchanged to another unit, or be injured and have to retire… There were hundreds of things… But why was he thinking of that when he still had so much to deal with before returning to the Wanderer even became an issue?

Waiting for him in Washington was an autopsy report. Soon would follow an investigation report of the Waggoner, his cabin, and whatever else the detectives had found (if anything at all). Then there was the funeral. An immense amount of people were currently gathering at Artie's destination so they could say their farewells to James West. His family, friends, men he had served with during the army, fellow agents, old girl friends all receiving the same shocking message… What was Artemus supposed to tell them?

He closed his dark eyes tried to remember the last thing he had said to Jim.

_See you later, Jim._

Artie didn't know. How could he have known he was saying goodbye for good? Maybe he had only said _Goodbye Jim, _or, _don't have too much fun, Jim, _the same things he always said.

Maybe that wasn't the sort of thing he wanted to remember.

Artemus removed his pocket watch and stood, realizing that Richmond had left him nearly an hour ago to collect a parcel. Artie had been glad to just have a moment to himself without someone scrutinizing the back of his head trying to decide if he was going to run off again and make a fool of himself while he pretended not to notice.

Trailing one hand down the wall, he headed towards the front of the car. He smiled politely as a young woman and an older man who looked like her father squeezed passed in the narrow hall. The train shuddered again and Artemus caught the girl's waist, making her blush, but then she laughed at him when her father scowled and they parted ways.

It all seemed very normal. Well of course it would, that sort of thing had happened countless times during Artemus' life. Yet they would never know why he was heading to Washington any more than he would know why they were.

"Colonel." Artie found him looking down on a table spread with papers, his arms crossed and frowning.

"Artemus, come have a seat, I was just about to come get you." That didn't seem very true, for Richmond gathered several of the papers up and tucked them away into his jacket while Artemus directed himself into a chair.

"What are these?" Artemus said casually as he gestured to the papers that remained on the table. Although it was obvious the Colonel had purposefully removed several from his sight Artemus chose to ignore it.

The Colonel sat across from Artie and leaned on one elbow. "Why don't we request dinner? Or have you already ordered it? The staff has been bragging about their lamb."

A sweet smile crossed Artemus' face; lamb sounded absolutely horrible. "Is this the parcel you were waiting for? From Major Davis?"

The smile that flitted across Richmond's face as he looked over his impatient companion mimicked Artemus'. "Yes, I'm going to send another team of agents in replacement of you … and James. I hate to talk business, when I know that must be the furthest thing from your mind, but I can't neglect the issues at hand." He paused, waiting for any kind of reply, but none came so he continued. "This was written in a hurry, but they wanted you to receive it as soon as possible. They sent a rider to catch the train." He shuffled through some of the papers until he found a specific one and pushed it towards Artie.

"The detectives I assigned believe James' death is related to the counterfeiting." Richmond told him with a sigh, and got up to slide the screen shut on the car. "That cabin the store clerk led us to contained an immense amount of fake bills. The murder may have simply been a warning, not personal at all…."

"I find that very hard to believe." Artemus looked over the paper and couldn't keep the sarcasm from his tone. "There are a thousand ways to kill a man that could be called impersonal but…"

"I know, I hardly believe it either." Richmond interrupted, sounding slightly annoyed at the outburst. "There was a diagram found, I don't know if it's important, they sent it since you're likely to make more sense of it than the detectives." He shuffled through the papers again until he found the drawing.

Several people then, finely dressed in evening attire, came through the door and clearly did not expect anymore to be in the room. "Excuse us," Richmond told them, hurriedly collecting all the papers and nodding at Artemus who quickly tucked his papers into his coat. "We were just leaving. Mr. Gordon, why don't you go back to our car and look those over? I'll get us some dinner and coffee."

"Certainly." Artemus said, smiling his way out of the room. He resisted pulling the papers out again until he was tucked away where he would not be interrupted until the Colonel returned with the dinner he had no appetite for.

He returned to the note. The man he had pursued was being labeled an article of the counterfeiting string in Missouri first, murderer second. Possibly the second half of a team, who had been living there with the Waggoner the entire time and was scheduled to intercept Artie and trick him into riding straight into a gully. If all this was truly as impersonal as it was beginning to seem than it didn't matter if it was Jim, or him, or maybe even both of them who had died on the train.

There was really nothing more included but some hastily made theories; nothing Artie hadn't already speculated on apart from what the Colonel had pointed out. At the end the diagram was mentioned as being the only artifact of the cabin of any question, and that several men had been stationed around the gully in hiding.

_To see if his little fly trap caught anything, of course._ Artie didn't like to think of himself disappearing over something so petty. It would have been a worthless, and embarrassing death… Somewhere in the back of his mind he couldn't help thinking that he had just become a perfect of example of when things got horribly out of control, then he looked at the diagram and changed his mind.

Artemus didn't know what the machine depicted did. The only thing written at the top in way of a heading said "Synthesis 6-12", and clearly wasn't written for anyone but the person who had written it. He also suspected it was incomplete or only illustrated a few functions because everything was labeled in numbers and there was no key… but he knew the written hand, he knew the style, and he knew the sort of person who likely to develop a machine of such complex nature. More importantly, he knew the sort of person to leave such a technologically advanced diagram at the cabin of James West's murderer and attempted murderer of Artemus Gordon.

Richmond knocked from the other side of the door and let himself in. He carried two plates precariously on one arm and a small fold out table in the other. If he noticed the slight tremble in Artemus' shoulders as the man tried to swallow his rage Richmond ignored it. Instead he set up the table between them, arranged the plates and sat down to his meal.

Vaguely Artemus looked down at the brazed lamb and felt like flipping the table, but he controlled himself enough to know that he wasn't mad at the Colonel. Artie cleared his throat and tried to voice his suspicion, but the other man simply pushed Artie's plate closer to him with an encouraging nod.

Richmond had been through the war, he had lost his share of friends and colleagues, and he had helped a lot of men go through the same grief. Yet he couldn't pretend that James West wasn't special, and his death particularly unexpected. He hardly knew how to help Gordon through this time without either of them loosing their sense of the business at hand. But it wasn't as if Artemus was the only one suffering. Richmond was sure that would prove itself painfully true at the funeral service they were bound for. The one thing he did know for certain was that skipping meals never helped any man overcome grief.

Artemus took a small bite, and looked bitter for a long moment before he swallowed, then pushed the plate away. Richmond set his fork down, chewing thoughtfully but he was clearly frustrated. Sometimes a person had to just swallow the bad memories and the pain that came with their line of work… and finish their brazed lamb. But Richmond could wait until Artemus said what he needed too before chastising the man for acting childish.

Setting the diagram on the table Artemus gestured to it then crossed his arms, still unable or not trusting himself to speak, as if the paper would explain his mood for him. The agent swallowed several times, pursing his lips, then sighed before sitting back and finally allowing his gaze to soften somewhat. "Dr. Loveless."

Richmond's scowl mirrored Artemus' as soon as he absorbed the words. They looked at the diagram for a moment more before Richmond shook his head and pushed Artie's plate back towards him. "Let's finish our dinner."


	6. Chapter 5

(AN: Thank you Kelly, Pet and Maurobar for the reviews. Ha, you all share a kindred dislike for Loveless that amuses me to no end. This chapter could still use work, but I wanted to get it up before I focus on studying for my midterms. So, I probably won't have chapter six up before next Monday. Sorry, but not really, you understand.)

Chapter Five: Cello Suite No. 1 Prelude - Bach

Artemus Gordon's impatience was hardly a secret. In fact, every passenger on the train headed for Washington was aware of it by the end of the next evening when they had finally arrived. Richmond deemed Artemus' pacing in their car or pacing down the hall with one hand on the wall and the other drumming on his hip at any hour, and fetching meals and sending them back hardly touched nearly unbearable. 

Artie didn't mean to bother anyone, but he could hardly sit still. He felt like a hungry dog with a steak dangling just out of reach… Artemus' stomach turned at the analogy and the foul images it evoked. He sat as calmly as he could muster, hardly aware that his legs jittered beneath him.

There were only a few conclusions he could draw from the diagram, but there was also one important fact that had put all of them into turmoil. If Dr. Loveless was involved than Artemus was certain Jim's death had been an accident. It seemed plausible enough that the little man would murder Artie in order to draw Jim into one of his little games…

"Were there any other written documents found? With handwriting samples? Or any dates?" Artemus asked. There was, Richmond showed him another document which was some kind of schedule written in the same hand that belonged to Loveless.

They just never hit it off the way he and Jim did. There was never the mutual respect between Artie and the Doctor. Artie couldn't even associate Loveless and respect with anything more than the most bitter sarcasm.

Jim's murder was very Loveless in style, so to speak. Artie couldn't believe that hadn't been his first suspicion. Yet at the same time there was one very important detail that Artemus couldn't push out of his mind. Loveless was in prison; private cell, solitary confinement. Richmond had kindly reminded Artemus that he and Jim were the ones who had put the Doctor there.

Artemus had withdrawn the diagram repeatedly, and rethought everything that had happened. He'd turned over all angles and all possibilities... If Loveless were in prison like he was supposed to be and had put his trust upon some premeditated plan than it was very likely mistakes would occur without him there to oversee their development.

Mistakes like killing the wrong target.

Well, the deranged little maniac was in for a bit of a shock on that one.

The train was coming to a stop, and Artemus was already waiting at the door with an irritated Richmond on his heels. "You might try to stifle your blood lust in front of… our boss, Mr. Gordon." He said, eyeing some of the people milling about.

"Blood lust." Artemus spluttered, sharing a conspiratorial glance with the surrounding strangers who merely looked confused then Artie smiled pleasantly. "I think I'm offended." His smile grew a little, "besides, like you said Colonel, his involvement is impossible." A whistle sounded and the wheels came to a slow halt; which seemed to Artie to take an impossibly long time. "And we can leave the rest of this conversation for later."

They took a carriage to the White House where they were to meet with the President. During the entire ride Artemus' mind flittered between the anxiety of approaching his President and Commander on the matter of Jim's murder, the anxiety of approaching Loveless in a situation where he had a clear and perfect alibi in utter guilt, and the funeral that was scheduled for the following morning. There was also a small anxiety over his uncommon desire to get completely smashed, but that one bore on him less heavily than the others.

"Please have a seat." President Grant told the two, dismissing their salutes off with an airy wave of his hand. Still standing, Grant leaned over his desk and spread his thick fingers on its surface. He waited patiently for the two men before him to lower themselves into the provided armchairs while looking at him with dark eyes.

Artemus, Grant thought, looked precisely how he expected him too. His dark eyes reflected the lamp light as they shifted rather awkwardly around the surface of the hard wood desk. Grant decided to make things short, not only because he had a lot to do before James' funeral the next day, but because he was miserable thinking about the whole matter and Artemus clearly was as well. He took a deep breath, "The Missouri Counterfeiting case has been temporarily suspended. When I say suspended, I'm hoping that isn't for more than a week, because their _business_ is only likely to speed up if they know they have the government on the run… but we have to make sure our agents are safe."

Artemus looked briefly at his President's eyes and realized what the older man was thinking. _Any other team you put on the case is likely to be pecked off as well, assuming the attacks are impersonal…_

"Now, the Colonel here mentioned in the last telegram that you had come up with something the detectives hadn't, Mr. Gordon?"

"I have." Artemus nodded and retrieved the diagram from his breast pocket and placed is on the desk. "I don't have any samples to fortify this idea on me, but the hand writing and the nature of this design I'm sure belong Doctor Miguelito Loveless."

Grant made a low sound in his throat, and it wasn't clear whether it dictated surprise or not but it clearly dictated distaste for the idea of the Doctor's involvement. "Speaking of which, take this Artemus." He passed a folder over the desk; Artemus knew it was the autopsy report and set it on his lap with an appreciative nod. For a brief moment Grant bent over the diagram in Loveless' writing and studied it, then made another disapproving sound. "What is this thing supposed to do?"

"I don't know sir… yet…" Artemus leaned forward and put his hands on his knees to force himself to remain seated. Richmond crossed his legs and leaned back casually, he was often forgotten in these discussions but his opinion would have its influence in time he was sure.

"Yes, calm down Artemus, I'm about ready to get to that." Grant pushed the diagram back to the agent who folded the paper up and tucked it away with a practiced hand. "Why don't you fix us all a drink Artemus."

Artie scrambled up, eager for the activity while President Grant sat down and waited until Artemus put a glass of brandy in his expecting hand. "So, what I expect you've been waiting for me to say Gordon, is that you two will be assigned to this case together." Artie blinked at him. "And I've said it. I want it on a top priority, not only because it's personal but because someone in this counterfeiting operation clearly knows a lot about government agents and that's trouble. What will you need Colonel?"

Richmond cleared his throat and set his glass on his knee. He gave Artemus' mysteriously emptied glass an odd look before speaking, "I was hoping I could have two or three other teams of agents, preferably unfamiliar to this general area, Mr. President, unlike Artemus and James…"

Only a brief moment passed while the Colonel stumbled over whether he should say _are_ or _were_, neither of the other two men cared to stall long on the topic and it passed without mention. But the pause was long enough for Artemus to lapse into his own thoughts while the two conversed over the business end of this nightmare. He kept one part of his attention open to words that included his name, Jim's or Loveless but otherwise ignored them and opened the folder. He wasn't particularly interested in the how; he had seen it _how_ but there was still a brief doubt in his mind that Jim was really dead.

_Blood sample, matched. Finger prints, matched._

That ended that then. For the first time Artemus acknowledged his doubt then dismissed it just as fast. Science didn't lie; he knew that better than most.

"I'll let you gentlemen go then," Grant said finally and stood. "I suspect you're eager to check into your hotel and get some rest after that long train ride." _After the murder and unsuccessful investigation, _it seemed like he was really thinking.

Artemus took a deep breath of chilly air on they emerged outside the White House. He didn't particularly like the air in Virginia, but he suddenly felt like he hadn't been breathing quite enough over the last few days. "I think I'll take a walk… I feel like I was born on that train, you know?"

Richmond nodded; he felt the same way, but was more interested in getting some sleep in what was likely to be his last free moment for a long while. "I'll meet up with you at the hotel later then, Artemus."

Artie nodded and turned the opposite way down the road. Richmond watched him for a moment as the agent pulled his burgundy jacket around him tighter and seemed to amble towards the park. The Colonel shrugged, he wouldn't at all blame the man if the next time they met up was in a bar…

Artemus walked slowly towards the park with his eyes on his feet. He knew DC like his own wallet but rarely enjoyed his visits. Work was the only reason he ever came; that or bad news. And for some reason he only ever seemed to come to DC when it was cold. He thought about just dropping himself on the next bar stool.

It was always the empty time before a funeral that always bothered him the most, unlike Jim who grew uncomfortable around morgues and cemeteries. A lot of whiskey and a few card games with some strangers might help him forget. He could let a pretty girl sit on his knee, and if she happened to be the daughter of the barkeep then Artemus could convince him they were long lost cousins upon hearing the man's name.

A lopsided grin spread across Artie's face as he arrived at the park and kept going past it. If there were any saloons left in DC that he hadn't played that trick in they would surely have been given a warning about him by now.

Anyone watching him would think he had no where to be. Maybe they thought he was trying not to be too early for a date or taking a quick break from the office… Artemus didn't know what impression strangers got when they looked at him. In fact, he didn't even know quite what to think of himself. He didn't know how he should look because he wasn't quite sure how he should feel. _Very philosophical._

He stopped and lifted his gaze at last; cocking his head to the side as he contemplated the Federal Prison that sat at the end of the cobbled street. It was a large ugly thing. Unlike the many other Federal buildings in DC that communicated a feeling of safety and diplomacy it just seemed to lurk and make people nervous.

Were there really so many rotten people that the city needed a building like that? Artemus shook his head, there would be one less if he didn't control his temper. He didn't want to appear angry or sad particularly… or shocked…

He wondered briefly how Loveless expected him to appear, well, how the Doctor expected Jim to appear. Artemus shivered and approached the front of the building with strong steps so the two guards out front would hear him before he turned the corner to the main entrance.

There was a thought; if he couldn't trust himself to approach Loveless as he was he would approach like he thought Jim might have, that's who the _good_ doctor expected anyway.


	7. Chapter 6

(AN: Well here it is, on Monday even. Sorry for making you wait! This is a nice big one though. I like this chapter so I think you will too. I like doing dialogue between Loveless and Artie... anyway, thanks for the reviews! I appreciate your thoughts as always! I'll get the next chapter up on Wednesday, until then wish me luck on my psychology midterm!)

Chapter Six: Double Violin Converto - Vivaldi

A quick wave of his identification, a few nicely ambiguous words which included _imperative_, _President Grant_ and _commendation_, and he was being escorted down a depressingly ill lit corridor. Artemus was going to conduct an interview with the prisoner Miguelito Loveless, who was being held in the third month of his solitary confinement.

The guard stopped at the door and turned to Artemus. He was the same guard who had relieved Artemus of his pistol and patted him down before allowing him past the front office. The man stood just a sconce taller than Artemus was and bore down on him with his green eyes. It was very clear that he wasn't a fan of the Doctor either. "Now Mr. Gordon, I'll have to lock you in just to be on the safe side, but I'll come have a look through the window every so often and give you a half hour. You just give me a wave if you're ready before then."

"Certainly sir," Artemus responded quietly, wondering if Loveless could hear them speaking from the other side of the door. He stood to the side purposefully so he was out of view of the window.

Artie was almost feeling meek, but didn't recognize the feeling. After speaking with the adept guards and looking at the thick door he was beginning to realize why Richmond and the President had dismissed his idea but Artemus knew better. Plus, he wasn't about to add doubt to his anxiety and growing depression. 

_No,_ Artemus was just going to give Loveless what he wanted. Artie was sure he knew better how Jim would have reacted than how he himself should be. Yet, his image of his former partner was tarnished. Artie could hardly think of his Jim without images of the drained and faceless form on the Wanderer's floor flashing through his eyes.

Artie gave a nod to show he was ready, and the guard retrieved a key chain from his belt and ushered Artie inside when the door opened. His eyes were still on the concrete floor as he pulled his jacket firmly over his hips and listened for the door locking behind him.

"Mr. Gordon. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Artemus drew his gaze up at the voice. Dr. Loveless sat casually on the bunk at the far wall, his short legs dangling over the side and a book sitting in his lap. A wide grin spread over his face, but there was a distinct tension in his voice and in his grey eyes. Artemus wasn't sure if the evident dislike was because he expected Artemus to be dead or merely because he and Jim were responsible for the Doctor's current predicament.

When Artemus didn't reply immediately, instead choosing to search the other's face, Loveless cocked his head to the side. He was still smiling but his eyes had narrowed suspiciously. "Will Mr. West be joining in this exciting little visit?"

For a moment Artie had to bite his cheek. He wasn't really in the mood to follow their sick little format. "Dr. Loveless, I'm conducting an investigation regarding the murder of government agent James West. Sufficient evidence suggests that the crime was a premeditated plot conducted by you yourself, Doctor, out of revenge."

Artie decided to leave out all the possible mistakes and connection to the counterfeiting in Missouri. Those things would come out in time. What interested him more was the gentle widening of the doctor's eyes and scowl spreading over his features. He was tempted to pick the little man up and shake him, but he had slid easily behind a professional mask. Artie hoped the doctor would see Jim's hate for him as well as Artie's own through him.

"Murder? I don't believe it. What kind of prank is this Mr. Gordon?" Loveless had put his book aside and stood up, clenching his small fists at his sides.

Artemus noticed for the first time that there were no windows when his gaze flickered up away from the wide grey eyes that seemed genuinely offended with Artemus' claim. He lifted his chin and clasped his own fists behind his back. "It is not a prank, I assure you. James West was found murdered on his private train the Wanderer at fifteen after six, November twenty-third. Colonel Richmond, a team of detectives and I were able to trace the murder back to you through the nature of the crime, awareness of government presence on the Wanderer, use of sleeping drugs to perform the act, and handwriting samples found in possession of the one of the two known assailants."

"Mr. Gordon! This is preposterous! How could I have committed any crime while I've been here for three months? Thanks to you and the late Mr. West, by the way." Loveless stamped a foot and looked as though he wanted to strike Artemus for a moment. Then he calmed himself with a deep breath and even a hint of a smile. "I simply cannot believe James West was murdered. I'm certain you don't either."

"His blood samples and fingerprints were matched, otherwise…" Artemus stopped himself, he wasn't about to speculate theories with such unfit company.

Loveless grinned rather sadly, "Yes, well, that would make it fact then." For a moment he mimicked Artemus' serious pose then snickered, turning his head to the side. His grey temples matched the walls and Artemus decided he liked seeing the Doctor in prison.

Artie remained quiet; he would let the little man talk, and wait for anything that resembled a confession.

"Well," The Doctor seemed to sense that. "Even handwriting samples and some of my sleeping drugs hardly make me to blame. _Especially_ not to blame, if you ask me, I respect… respected Mr. West far too much to simply drug and shoot him." _He wasn't shot,_ Artemus thought. "I always gave him a fair chance."

"Fair by your standards." Artemus snapped, "Besides, I'm perfectly aware of that. Which is how the investigation was able to come this far."

"What are you saying?" The Doctor was growing livid again and stared up into Artemus' face, not caring that he had no way of defending himself.

"If I may," now Artemus smiled, hoping to further provoke the other.

"Please." Loveless waved a cordial hand and crossed his arms.

"You had every intention of giving Jim a fair chance, didn't you? The handwriting, the diagram at that man's…"

Loveless interrupted, "What diagram?"

Artemus didn't answer immediately; he crossed his arms, now mocking the Doctor's pose.

"What diagram Mr. Gordon? If a design of mine was found in the hands of another man than it was stolen. I demand you tell me."

The doctor's rage at this possibility was depressingly sincere. Artemus suddenly just wanted to go to bed. "It is a diagram that was labeled _Synthesis 6-12_, in your hand."

"Why," Loveless face was flushed red and his fists quivered at his sides, "Why, that is mine! It was stolen from me!" He stormed to the far end of the room then back stamping his feet. "This is preposterous, who could possibly have even known where to find it?" He was clearly speaking to himself but Artemus allowed him, still watching with his arms smugly crossed. "And… oh! Oh! I cannot believe it! I know precisely what has happ…"

The dwarf stopped, turning back towards Artemus and snapping his mouth shut as if he just then remembered who was in the room with him and why. "Mr. Gordon. We have both been done a most grievous harm." He said after a moment's thought.

"I certainly have, and Jim certainly has, but I don't see that you have."

"But I have. We share an enemy Mr. Gordon, although I'm sure you find that hard to believe…" The glittering grey eyes Artemus despised flickered towards the door and narrowed in thought. _He must have noticed the guard,_ Artemus thought, but refrained himself from looking. The Doctor was attempting, quiet obviously, to calm himself. He went to sit at the far end of the cot, gesturing for Artemus to take the other end.

Artemus ignored him and remained standing, "If you would like to tell me something Doctor, then do it now."

"I am going to do just that. I prefer you in good humor Mr. Gordon, this aloofness is infuriating."

"You will tell me every detail of your plot, and everyone involved, and you will keep in mind that my aloofness is my attempt to keep my fingers out of your windpipe."

Their eyes met, and it seemed that one would lunge at the other but Loveless simply sighed. "I do not know how this plan goes, or precisely what has happened already. I tell you it was not my doing. How could it be? There is in fact a man who would want to wrong both myself and James West but…"

Artemus tried not to look away when the Doctor scrutinized him and Artie realized the little man had come to the same conclusion he had. "There was a mistake. Ha, I believe it. Mr. West was not the target. You must have been, Gordon. James was meant to be led to me, probably have my sentence changed to execution…" Muttering under his breath he added, "that isn't sounding so bad though" then he cleared his throat, "Then Jim would realize all this was the doing of a third party."

Everything Loveless said matched what Artemus had thought, and the parts that did not were perfectly logical if he was willing to believe Loveless. "Who is this third person then Loveless? There's no harm telling me if he's an enemy of yours, and it might save you an execution."

"That wouldn't be wise of me to tell you." Loveless answered, growing snappy again, "I really don't like this attitude of yours. Besides, you would never find him on your own. I'm positive the only clues you have found were there because he allowed you to find them… sleeping drugs and handwriting samples… I would never leave anything of that sort lying around after a crime."

He glanced at the door again, but this time it was because the guard knocked so Artemus also turned. He smiled politely and nodded when the guard held up a hand, _five minutes_, the man mouthed.

"Tell me who this person is, otherwise I will assume that you are to blame and have you prosecuted for the murder of James West." Artie said once they were unobserved again.

"I have nothing more to say to you. I'm sure you will find that you will need my assistance. Mr. Gordon, you're a smart man, haven't you been trying at all? I'm sure if you could get in here without a written document for an interview then you could get me out to assist with this investigation…"

Artemus was almost taken aback by the ridiculous notion. "Tell me who this person is Doctor, and where I can find him or I will have to believe the evidence given." He repeated firmly, leaning towards the other and almost whispering as he tried not to sound defeated.

"Well then, be careful on your way home Artemus. If my suspicions are correct than you are just a loose end our enemy will be looking to tie up."

With a great effort Artemus resisted the urge to kick the grinning face, "Gee, thanks." Then he moved to the doorway and was escorted out.

"I hope your interview was successful." The guard told him politely as he returned Artemus' pistol and led him to the front of the building.

"It was, thank you for your time sir." Artie lied and headed back towards the Executive Offices on the quickest route, knowing the man would be watching him as he walked away.

_Is he lying? Is he guilty? _Artemus turned down a side road once he was out of sight of the prison, and found himself standing in the dark of another night with nothing but bad news and more questions.

The idea of turning in early was looking increasingly attractive. He could run over all these possibilities with Richmond tomorrow or even the day after... Tomorrow he would be at Jim's funeral, wearing black and standing in yellow grass while watching Jim disappear into a hole… Artemus tried not to look to sour but it was difficult.

Instinctively he moved to the side of the street when he heard hoof beats and the sound of carriage wheels on the cobbled street. A whip cracked and the horses broke into a run, casually Artemus glanced over his shoulder. A lamp swung side to side, breaking up the dark street and drew closer until the outline of the carriage was visible, and Artemus saw it move to the side of the street where Artemus was walking.

Trying to look idle Artie moved to the other side and glanced again. The carriage moved again to his side of the street. It was close enough for Artie to see a driver with a hat pulled down over his eyes, his mouth was open as he whipped the horses. The animals bayed fearfully and surged towards Artie.

Artie's heart skipped a beat.

Loveless' warning ran through his ears suddenly. The tall, stone garden walls left Artemus no way out of the path now that it was so close. He drew his pistol and took a shot at the man; striking one of the horses in the shoulder. Now he was staring the frothing horses in the face, and wondering if it was purposeful that the lamp on the carriage threw the driver's face into shadow.

Quickly Artemus tried the door to the nearest home but it was locked. _This is ridiculous, he's just going to squash me against this house?_ Artie took another shot, causing the man's hat to fly to the side. _Even if I shoot him between the eyes,_ Artemus told himself, lining up his shot, he couldn't miss even with the poor light. _I've got no where to go._ He started to pull the trigger when he was suddenly jerked backwards.

Half moving on his own and half being pulled, Artemus stumbled backwards through the parlor of a home. He couldn't tear his eyes away as the horses collided into the door and luckily were too large to fit through. The high side window shattered and the door was thrown off its hinges. Then all the horses collapsed, hoofs thrashing and tearing into one another. His eyes were fixated on to the mess he narrowly escaped.

Artemus heard frightened shrieks and realized there was an elderly woman and a handful of small children with honey blond hair in the far corner of the room. "Go up stairs!" Artemus hollered over the screams of the horses and splintering wood. The woman nodded and ushered the children away up the stairs. Then he looked to the old man who had saved him. The man had drawn a rifle.

Without speaking they waited until the horses had more or less exhausted themselves. They had become hopelessly tangled in their ropes and slumped in the door way wheezing. One was unmoving and Artie saw dark blood glittering off the lamplight. Artie moved to the smashed window but it was blocked by the carriage.

"Well that was more excitement then I've seen in a long while." The old man said, almost laughing. Artemus attempt a small smile, but it probably only made him look half crazed. "I need to get back on the street. Can I get over the garden wall?"

The man nodded and led Artemus to the back door. Once outside, Artemus ran through the garden, hoped onto a small outdoor table and clamored up the side of the wall. "I hope I haven't made a mistake helping you out Mister."

Artemus turned back just as he was about to hop down to the street, "You haven't sir, I'll send the police here immediately, they can explain." He jumped down and just as he was starting towards the carriage he turned back towards the fence, "Thank you."

"Certainly."

The overturned carriage was empty and probably stolen. Artie released the ropes from the front so the horses could try to untangle themselves. One black mare had been crushed against the wall and trampled. It was dead. Its brown eye glittered from beneath the others, and Artemus felt like he was looking at his own corpse instead of the horse's. Really, he'd only been lucky that man had opened the door…

Surely he couldn't expect that kind of luck to last.

One of the harnesses was empty. The man must have jumped on the horse and taken off just before the impact. _Clever,_ Artie thought_, and well planned._ The horses were too frazzled to use. It was likely most of them would have to be shot because of broken legs. Even if Artie had a horse the man had already had plenty of time to get away. So Artemus took off on foot for the hotel. Richmond would certainly want to know, if Artie could get there at all.

Somehow he felt he was being watched. '_If my suspicions are correct than you're just a loose end our enemy will be looking to tie up.' _ How could Loveless know where Artie would be? How long had that man been waiting?

"My name is Artemus Gordon, I have a room." Artie said, out of breath and scrutinizing every man in the place with suspicion. The woman working the desk seemed a little frightened and stuttered as she greeted him. Artemus realized he was nearly looming over her and took a step back He pressed his dark hair back and tried to look inconspicuous.

"Mr. Gordon." She said quietly and gave him a key, "Mr. Richmond left a message, he's waiting in the private dining hall. I can take…"

"I know where…" He had to stop himself again and smile, "Thank you ma'am, you don't have to trouble yourself. I know the way."

Artemus practically ran, although being nervously eyed by other patrons slowed him down. He didn't want to scare anyone, but it was difficult when Artie had to admit he was scared himself. "Colonel, I have to tell you…"

Colonel Richmond looked up, along with a half dozen soldiers and four men Artemus knew to be fellow agents although their names escaped him. "Gordon, get in here, close the door. What on Earth kept you so long?"

"What's happened? What's going on?"

"Sit down, and pardon me if I skip the introductions for the moment." Richmond held a written telegraph message out for him and waved him impatiently into a chair. "Back in Missouri they spotted but were unable to capture Dr. Loveless' assistant, Voltaire. Remember him?"

Artie paused a moment, eyes wide. "But he's dead. I witnessed his death myself."

"Well, he was seen clear as day, hard fellow to confuse… we're going to look into your Loveless theory. Loveless is in the Federal prison on…"

"I know…" Artemus took a deep breath. Richmond wasn't supposed to know about that and from the way his eyes locked onto Artie's he clearly didn't approve. "I spoke with him, that's where I was… but listen. He doesn't seem to know anything about this, he claims there is a third person with a vendetta against him as well."

"That's highly unlikely; I'll have him formally interrogated as soon as…"

"Listen," Artemus said quietly, but his tone was commanding. "About fifteen minutes ago someone tried to kill me but I couldn't get a look at the man's face…"

"What did Loveless say to you Artemus?" Colonel Richmond interrupted. Both seemed so eager to hear the other's story while telling their own they couldn't help interrupting. Richmond nodded to a man next to him who was writing furiously.

"Loveless told me to be careful on my way home. He may have known about the assassin, but I don't see how… I'll do a written report… right now we need to have some men sent out to a house three streets north of Philadelphia, hard to miss unfortunately. There's a mess to be cleaned up, and…"

Richmond stood up, "You three, get out there and see what kind of mess Mr. Gordon is talking about." He started pointing fingers and giving orders without taking is frustrated glare off Artie's face.

Artemus ran a hand through his hair and watched the room empty as everyone was released to complete their task. "But I'm not sure Loveless is really behind this… Colonel… His plan would be in complete shambles by now."

"Back up plans, Artemus." Richmond turned, fingering his watch chain as he eyed the agent. "You look about half out of your senses… why don't you go relax?"

The idea was appealing even if he had been insulted, but Artemus shook his head, "How would Loveless have known what street… if I would even…" He shook his head, tapping his heel in irritation on the floor. See, Jim was supposed to… That man was…"

Richmond raised a palm, "Talk sense please."

"How would Loveless have even known we were going to be in Missouri, let alone which town, which bank… Who told him? He's been in prison three months…" Artie looked up at the Colonel and saw the older man was clearly struggling with the same questions. "I didn't even know about the case until about two weeks ago."

"How do you explain Voltaire's appearance? Who else but Loveless would know how to predict your actions so well? You are a secret agent after all."

Someone hollered for Richmond's attention and Artie jumped at the distraction.

"I think I will go to my room. Goodnight James."

Artemus let himself into another strange prim little hotel room, and found his baggage waiting for him to the side of the door when he lit a lamp. He unlocked a trunk and pulled out his black suit. Caringly he hung it over the back of a chair and smoothed out some wrinkles.

_I'm going to have to do something unexpected and quick,_ Artie realized as he was unlacing his boots and polished the tops. Unfortunately, he knew exactly the sort of thing he needed to do.

Tomorrow was going to be hell. Especially if someone found out what he was planning.


	8. Chapter 7

(AN: Ha, I said Wednesday... I didn't say early... well... this chapter is the midpoint as far as length goes, although I might have to extend some chapters where I feel like I rushed. Thanks for the reviews Kelly, Maurobar and "Spots on a Pony" (you've officially been nicknamed Pony). I love cliffhangers Kelly! Maurobar, you'll never know how hard I laughed when you said keep Artie safe, you'll see why presently, and thanks for wishing me luck! Pony, I've taken note of your advice, and thank you. I know nothing of horses, frankly they creep me out; I get all my research from the miniature pony farm my neighbors own. So cute, but not quite the same I guess. It was difficult to articulate the first part of this chapter. Weird things with no words to describe them, you know?... Well, enjoy! Because I enjoy writing for you!)

Chapter Seven: Mache Slav - Tchaikovsky

The grass at the cemetery was still green thanks to Virginia's humid air, and despite careful upkeep colorful leaves dotted the grass. Many of the headstones belonged to men lost in the civil war. Stones stood in varying ages that marked the constant death of veterans. Some had wreaths or the last of the year's roses at their bases; and many had fading American flags draped around them. It was pretty and Artie was glad to have a place there, if he cared to think of morbid things like that. 

Jim's headstone hadn't yet been carved; there was still debate over what could possibly good enough for him without being cliché. But the turn out of people and the memorial of army medals and flowers spoke in place of a stone. It was impressive, Artie thought with some satisfaction. _That's boy was loved for sure…_

The preacher began, and they circled around the polished casket with a flag covering its surface. Some little girl, a cousin, asked her mother why she they couldn't look at Jimmy. Almost immediately a chorus of people broke into sobs, and any thoughts Artie had of crying faded. The preacher began to describe Jim's services in the war as if it was an exciting bed time story and Artie thought he might be sick. Then a man, a Timothy or Thomas if he remembered correctly, who had told Artie that Jim had once saved his life, brushed past with his hand over his mouth, face waxen, and Artie's stomach settled.

The casket began to sink into the Earth, three women, more cousins and an aunt, sang an anthem and Artie felt the corners of his vision darken and thought he would faint. Then a woman, some old girlfriend from high school, collapsed forward and Artie caught her neatly around the waist and scooped her into his arms, forgetting that he was about to do the same.

Someone had to be strong.

But was he being strong? Artie wondered, squeezing shoulders and letting others cry on his. Was his plan a thing of strength? The right thing?

"Artemus… I want to ask… can I?" Some man approached, wringing his hands. "What… what were?"

He knew someone would ask him that, so he didn't have to draw himself out of his own thoughts to answer. "His last words?" Artie supplied, smiling politely. "I'm sorry, I honestly can't remember."_ Bye Artie. See you later Artie._ _Don't have too much fun Artie. _Now he couldn't even remember if he was recalling what he said to Jim or what had Jim said to him. He probably hadn't even been listening completely.

The preacher invited everyone to the church that stood nearby. It was a sweet white building that probably had just as many weddings as memorials. Some of them where already there, fanning themselves and trying to pull themselves together. Artie walked slow, watching his polished black shoes collect mud as he walked until he had drifted to the back of the group.

Whenever anyone glanced at him there was that pitying look. Behind some of the eyes he saw a gentle dislike for him too, but he knew that would fade. They would accept that there was nothing Artie could have done probably before he himself did. They entered the church and disappeared inside, and finally Artemus was alone.

"Hey Jim. I'm sorry this is the real thing." Artemus said to the plain plot of land covered in already wilting flowers. "But I'm going…" He swallowed, for the first time he felt truly anxious as he looked at the grassy cemetery.

When Richmond came outside to look for him, having finally noticed the agent was not with everyone else at the church, Artie was gone.

WWW

_Voltaire in Missouri? Sleeping drugs. The man's handwriting for heaven's sake._ Everything pointed back to Loveless.

But Voltaire died, and Artie was positive of that. It had been part of the scuffle that had finally landed Doctor Loveless in jail. Artie wanted to believe there was some kind of intricate plan Loveless had developed to ensnare Jim and it had gone wrong. It was that simple, which was, quite honestly, too simple. That's why Artie had finally let the idea go.

Whatever the circumstances, someone was expecting Artemus to behave a certain way, whether it was Loveless or some other person who simply needed Artie to disappear. He knew he needed to shuffle the deck if he wanted to gain any control. Calmly Artie walked through DC, away from the cemetery and towards the industrial district.

He didn't look so strange passing by on the grey sidewalk; many men passed in business suits that were nearly the same Artie's own mourning suit. Except those men were actively doing their day to day business, while Artemus was more idle. He watched some of these people for a moment then headed down the street with renewed, but false, vigor. No one would know that he wasn't simply running an errand for some congressman.

Two horses waited behind a general store, hooked to a wide but shallow open cart which was half empty. Their masters were inside checking the inventory they had just delivered. Calmly, Artemus pulled up the ramp on the cart, climbed into the front and ushered the horses away with a flick of the reigns.

Stolen.

That was the first part of his plan.

This wasn't really that different from his day to day activities as an agent, Artemus told himself and nodded to a couple walking from the park as he passed. Several minutes later the federal prison grew closer. As he looked up at the great stone block it dawned on him how little time he actually had to execute his plan. He parked the cart to the side of the building. Pure luck, he realized, because the back would have been awfully suspicious.

The two horses didn't seem to like Artemus. Artie tried petting one anyway because he couldn't blame them for their good intuition. He wished his own mare was with him but she was with Jim's horse on the Wanderer.

The only guard he had seen had looked at Artie's identification and let him be. They were all Grant's boys after all, weren't they? They trusted him.

_Jim, tell me this isn't the more preposterous things I've never done,_ Artie thought grimly. From the inside pocket of his suit Artemus retrieved six little round balls, four were black and two red, they looked like marbles. He rolled them around in his palm.

_You're stalling; you don't have time for that._ Artie nodded checking his position on the wall and tossed one of the black balls. Only about four feet of bricks collapsed. If it had been soundless, which of course it was not, he might have had an easy time with his plan.

Artie peered through the dust and smoke and realized the cell was empty. It was a relief (however minute), he didn't want to have to stall long enough to deal any other inmates or be responsible for any other escapes. Darting inside the hole he turned left and threw another black ball just as an alarm was sounding.

He drew his pistol from inside his jacket and went through the new hole. Loveless' tiny form was on opposite side of the room. When he spotted Artemus through the smoke he hastily picked himself up from where he had been cowering away from the explosion. "Gordon? Good heavens." He Doctor did not smile. "What on Earth…"

Artie told him to shut up and grabbed the man by the back of his over sized prison shirt. When the door to the cell opened Artie's eyes met with the same guard who had escorted him in the day before. Artie wasted no time flicking one of the red balls down and backing out as the room filled with red smoke. The urge to apologize to the guard plagued him, but he knew it wouldn't help. Besides the man would be unconscious…

"Unhand me! Mr. Gordon!" Loveless kicked uselessly in Artie's grip, and Artie ignored him. Exchanging small talk was not part of his plan. "Look out!"

Artemus turned once he felt mud under his feet instead of concrete and tossed the second red ball without even fully looking. He heard guards coughing and lunged behind the cart a moment before several rifle shots were fired from the red cloud.

Finally he deposited Loveless into the driver's seat of the cart, and jumped into the back. He kneeled on crates and sacks of rice while leaning forward to grab the reigns. Loveless still looked as if he had been shot, which Artie quickly determined was not the case when a wicked grin spread of the Doctor's face.

The supposed genius was beginning to catch on.

People screamed as Artie led the horses onto the main road, and others flooded out of buildings to see why. _Good, fill the roads,_ Artie thought, glancing behind.

"I'm glad you seem to see the truth in all this Mr. Gordon." Loveless shouted, clinging to the bottom of the bench because his feet didn't touch the floor board, and he looked likely to just topple off. "I am shocked though…"

"Be quiet!" Artie looked behind as the sound of horses and more rifle shots. "Can you drive?"

The cart rattled over uneven cobblestones making Artie worry that they might loose a wheel.

A steely grey eye found Artie's and the doctor took the reigns. Artie dropped to the floor of the cart. Holding his pistol steady on his black sleeve he shot several times at the side walks. His aim was wide, he just wanted to draw people onto the streets the keep the guards from following too close.

"Where am I going Mr. Gordon?" Loveless shouted back.

_What on Earth am I doing?_ "To the end of this road, cut through the park, and to the train tracks. We have a freight train to catch." He hated the way people looked at him only because he knew he wasn't acting. "You do anything unexpected and I'll chuck you back to the guards." Artie shouted, cringing when the cart shuddered

Rice flew as a rifle shot tore into one of the bags by Artie's knee. Clearly, Artie thought as rice poured over his shoes, they weren't as interested in missing him as he was them. "Keep low, _Doctor._" Artie grinned, pushing the other down, "Lower that is."

They flew past the general store and two men started screaming at Artie and chased them uselessly on foot for a moment. Artie tried not to look guilty because it must have been their cart be had stolen.

"Don't you ever get tired?" Loveless mumbled once he had caught on to Artie's previous quip.

Artie barely heard him. A bullet clipped his shoulder, tearing the fabric and flew away over Loveless' back. The guards were getting too close. Loveless turned into the park, snapping the reigns over the horses. Artie slipped in the loose rice and almost fell when the cart shifted.

"Shoot the horse at the front." Loveless ordered after another near miss.

Artie paused reluctantly, then shot twice and hit a young yellow stallion in the knee on the second try. The horse's dark eyes seemed shocked as if he was realizing for the first time that he wasn't invincible, then he tripped and threw his rider. Two others tripped as well and then there were only two guards chasing them.

"This plan seems a little half-baked Mr. Gordon. It's unlike you."

_Is that a joke?_ Artie wondered and drew a little black ball from his coat pocket. "I have everything under control. Turn left."

Loveless jerked the reigns so suddenly the cart drew up on its two left wheels in attempt to follow. Artie slid against the side of the cart and grabbed the Doctor's shirt when the little man slid across the seat. They now rode against the train tracks.

"Where is this freight Gordon?" Artie sensed the slightest bit of stress in Loveless' voice, but he was remarkably more at ease than Artie was.

The two guards turned the corner and drew into sight. Artie let the little bomb roll from his palm onto the pavement. The little explosion frightened the guard's horses who stumbled back whinnying. The two pulling their cart were spurred on faster. Artie regretted for a moment the sound of their hoofs against the paved road and knew they would get shin splits.

_They're done, they know I have bombs._ Artie stood up, swaying slightly with the motion of the cart and looked ahead for the train that was no where in sight. They had made good time so it couldn't have left without them. Then, faintly he heard a whistle. The Doctor must have heard it too and snapped the reigns.

Artie looked back to see if the guards were still daring to pursue them and saw one holding a smoking rifle. A wicked scream deafened his right ear, Artie's head snapped back and he fell between the crates to the floor of the cart before he could even determine what had happened. Loveless was screaming at him but the sound was like a bird far away in a tree compared to his own heart beat which echoed in the thick air around him.

Nothing hurt, but his mind spun and twisted and Artie clearly wasn't in control of it. He felt wetness drizzling into his right eye, but could only see black from it. It was almost funny, _almost_, Artie mused as he lost consciousness. He didn't know he was capable of doing something quite that stupid; but it didn't seem worth shooting him in the head over.


	9. Chapter 8

(AN: I love this song, and this chapter! I actually wrote most of this chapter before the rest of story, and I got the idea for the scene listening to the song. Thanks, some more, for the reviews! And let me just say Madam Pet, that there are many more cliffhangers in your future, lol, so don't missy me! And Maurobar, I never promised to keep him safe, but there are definitely worse things I could have done to him! (maybe) I'm glad everyone is still enjoying the story, and I hope you continue to!)

Chapter eight: Little Russia – Tchaikovsky

(Symphony No. 2 In C Minor, Op. 17 - Little Russian: 2. Anantino Marziale Quasi Moderato)

Artie's mind resembled itself slowly and in the most cautious of ways, as it always did in these situations. Where had he been? Well, he knew but he couldn't believe it. It must have been a dream. Had he really been in the back of a delivery cart being driven like a mad man by a mad man? That answered his second question. Who had he been with?

_Miguelito Loveless_. The doctor had broken out of prison again. Only this time the little man's unexpected escape was hardly a mystery. Artemus moved his fingertips and was relieved when they responded. That meant he was okay, or at least his fingers were.

Then there was the third question of why he was waking up yet didn't recall having fallen asleep. As if to remind him, a dizzying throb grew in his forehead. It felt like something was pushing out on his eyes from inside his head. There was a metallic taste in his mouth he couldn't swallow and made his throat feel swollen.

It was a depressing way to wake up.

A cool cloth relieved the pain acutely, and a soft hand brushed over his brow. With the return of his senses Artemus had feared the return of the surreal unease that had accompanied him since he found Jim in the train, but instead he smelled cinnamon and heard a fire popping and felt nothing but a contented sleepiness dwelling under the pain.

"I think he's waking up Miguelito." A woman sang softly above him, and drew the damp cloth across his cheek. "Open your eyes now and I'll give you something for the pain, Mr. Gordon."

That seemed like a fair enough bargain, and Artemus opened his eyes. The dim room wavered in and out of focus as his dark eyes adjusted themselves on the face waiting above his. Recognition only took an instant. Antoinette's green eyes studied his for a moment, then she smiled, laugh lines creasing their corners.

She reached out of his line of vision and when she turned curls fell over her shoulders. With firelight playing off her pale skin Artemus' bruised mind thought he saw his mother. Antoinette lifted his head with one hand and brought a cup to his lips with the other as deftly and expertly as a nurse. The water washed the sickening taste of blood away but left a subtle bitter taste of aspirin behind it.

Artemus pushed himself up onto an elbow and attempted to sit, but Antoinette put a hand on his chest. "You'd best lie…"

"I really insist on sitting up." He answered somewhat indignantly, then added "thank you" onto the end. She shrugged a shoulder and lent her arm while he pulled himself upright. Then she stood, gathering several swells of her velvet skirt and walked away.

"Miguelito? Where have you gone?"

Artemus allowed his eyes to wander. He appeared to be in the sitting room of a comfortably furnished cabin with the poignant air of a woman's touch about it and the sensible tidiness of a man as well. His _hostess_ had walked past a small fireplace towards a curtained doorway, she brushed it aside and Artie saw a lamp lit counter and several porcelain jars on a kitchen counter.

"I'm here my dear!" A voice called, and Artie cringed at its familiarity.

The curtain swayed gently as Antoinette disappeared behind it. Artie smoothed his palms out of the seat of the sofa, which in the firelight seemed to be light blue denim. He saw his shoes in a line on hearth of the fireplace by a pair of lady's slippers and miniscule sized boots.

Artemus leaned his head against the back of the sofa, and put a hand gingerly to his forehead. There was a bandage on the right side from the eyebrow to his hair line.

The pair's soft peals of laughter echoed from the kitchen followed by Loveless quickly shushing them. "Mr. Gordon! I'm glad you're awake." Loveless entered the room carrying a lamp with him. His grin was characteristically broad as he straightened his cravat and limped towards Artemus. "I bet you thought you were dead." He continued before Artemus had time to answer, which was well enough because Artemus couldn't think of anything, for once, to say to the doctor. "And I'm sure you have many questions, which is fair, because I have a few of my own."

Dr. Loveless sat the lamp on an end table and stood before Artie with his hands on his hips. "But first let's have another look at your head." He reached towards Artie who recoiled, clearly offended. "Don't be so childish!" The Doctor laughed at Artie's glare, "My goodness, you do realize I am a doctor? Besides, if I was going to hurt or kill you I would have done it already."

Artemus had already concluded that, but huffed a doubtful breath of air for good measure. Warily he let Loveless peel back the bandage and replace it with a fresh one. "You will, of course, tell me what happened. And where we are?" Artemus said sourly as he touched the new bandage.

"In good time, Mr. Gordon. I want to make sure you are fit to join me and Antoinette for supper. How man fingers do you see?"

"Just two."

"Any nausea? Confusion?"

Artie couldn't contain a frustrated sigh, "No, _doctor._"

"You realize a rifle bullet grazed the side of your head?" Loveless answered, "Then you bounced around on the bottom of a cart for several hours…"

Artie wasn't impressed, he knew from first hand experience that being grazed by a bullet was infinitely better than been shot with one. Also, he had actually spent a good deal of time bouncing around on the bottoms of carts and wagons in his career. "A few hours in which direction?"

"You are impossible to talk to. Here." Loveless held a finger up, telling Artemus to wait. Artie turned to watch him as the dwarf went to a writing desk that was against the far wall by another door. He opened one drawer, shook his head, shut it and opened another. "Ah, there." Loveless waved a hand-mirror over his shoulder for Artie to see, as if it were significant, then returned and handed it to him.

Artie took the mirror, rubbing the smooth silver handle between his fingers and looked at himself. "Oh."

Loveless tossed his head back and laughed, his little shoulders bouncing, "Yes, that's what I said as well."

The cut was relatively small, but his right eye was blackened and the bruising went up into his hairline, where he could feel it when he prodded gently around the bandage, and across the bridge of his nose. His eye was bloodshot was swollen slightly. Artie handed the mirror back and tried to think of it as good fortune. Surely it was better than having been killed. "Thanks." He mumbled, partially hoping it would be too soft to hear.

"For what? Lending you the hand mirror or for stitching up your obnoxious head? I am a doctor after all. Besides I would say that simply makes us even. I would have been disadvantaged, believe it or not, if you had been killed." Loveless had returned to the desk and was riffling through the drawers. "I thought I had… well… Antoinette!"

"It's almost ready!" She hollered back.

"No not that." Loveless sighed and disappeared into the kitchen. Artemus waited; he was clearly in no danger and was annoyed to discover that he felt slightly indebted to the little man. Loveless could have unhitched the cart and gotten away. Artie would probably be in prison, or dead. _How did he get away?_

"Here Mr. Gordon." Artie looked blandly at the Doctor when he returned. "This was left by a guest." Loveless grinned in a way Artie didn't like. "It will fit you, and do well to replace that." He gestured to Artie's shirt, and Artie was surprised when he looked down and saw blood dried dark orange across his chest and shoulder. Artemus took the new shirt and nodded. "Are you sure you're not concussed?" Loveless added.

"Do you suppose I'd know if I were?"

"I suppose not. Change and join me and Antoinette for supper."

Artie tried to think of a way to refuse that wouldn't _directly_ anger his host, but Loveless was walking away. He turned back at the doorway, "You'd best find your appetite. We don't have time for you to feel sorry for yourself if you want to… put justice to your partner's murder."

"I'll be right in."

Artie changed quickly and went to sit down. He smiled at Antoinette as she went about filling his and Loveless' plates with roasted potatoes, winter squash and duck. Artie couldn't imagine where the duck came from, he couldn't image Loveless hunting and surely they couldn't simply buy one…

"That's quite enough!" Loveless said suddenly, putting a hand over his plate. "Do you expect me to eat all that?"

"Oh, but you've gotten so thin…"

"I know dear, but it's an easy thing to remedy."

Antoinette finally served herself and sat down. Then she and the Doctor looked expectant at Artie; waiting for their guest to take the first bite.

_What kind of rabbit hole did I fall into? _

Artie picked up his fork and politely obliged. "It's fantastic." He said once he had swallowed. "Really", and he meant it.

Home cooking is the best remedy to life's problems, he'd always been told, and believed it. Artie wondered if he hadn't told that once to Jim as he fixated over his plate. He was oddly contented but hadn't verbalized the feeling into his thoughts. Probably, he wouldn't even believe that he could be feeling anything but the self-loathing he had been expecting. Could it be, he wondered, that he had actually done the right thing in freeing Loveless?

"So, Mr. Gordon… Artemus?" Artie's lips twitched but he didn't protest. "Shall I regale you the tale of how you came to be here? It's quite heroic, I think you'll be impressed."

"Hmm?" Artie looked up, almost having forgotten who his host was. Dr. Loveless set his elbows on the table, still holding his fork. Despite having insisted Antoinette had given him too much he had eaten nearly as much as Artemus had. There was a soft thumping beneath the table, which Artemus guessed was the doctor swinging his legs. It was a childish habit Artie assumed was hard to overcome when your legs didn't reach the floor. "Regale me."

Loveless took a bite of squash, chewed thoughtfully and nodded at his wife. "Delicious Antoinette."

"And you roast a wonderful duck. Doesn't he Mr. Gordon?"

"Oh… yes." Artie fingered his napkin and smiled easily at the handsome woman.

Loveless waved a hand humbly, "I do, don't I? Well, if you're ready. I already told dear Antoinette how you came rather unexpectedly to my rescue, of course I never thought you would actually do what I suggested. One of Grant's best men even!"

"Let's overlook that." Artie mumbled, his fork halfway to his mouth. He didn't need Dr. Loveless of all people telling him that he would be in serious trouble if he returned to DC in one piece, even if he did have Jim's murderer in tow. "Tell me the part I missed."

"I will, we still have all the whole evening you know. But continuing on, I heard a rifle shot and didn't hear you fire back, so I glanced over my shoulder and you were lying face down in a puddle of…" Loveless was grinning fiercely, but bit it back when both Artie and Antoinette were looking at him disapprovingly. Antoinette for Loveless' less than hospitable table-talk and Artie simply didn't like how the Doctor seemed to enjoy his pain.

"Anyway, naturally I thought you were dead. The guards were still coming though, albeit very slowly, so I managed to reach over the seat while the horses were running a straight away and take one of those clever little bombs from your jacket pocket. Did you think I didn't notice them?" Loveless added behind a mouthful when Artie's eye went wide. "Which is when I realized you weren't dead. Still, without you to impart to me the rest of your little plan, I had to…"

"What did you do with my bomb?" Artie hadn't seen his suit jacket in the living room, and felt a small quiver of fear at what Loveless might have done with Artie's weapons. "And the rest of my… things?"

Loveless grinned, "I didn't kill those guards, if that's why you're afraid of. It wouldn't have been in my best interest anyhow, I just scared them off. And I haven't touched the rest of your belongings either, I'll admit I did look, although it was less than revea…"

"You scared them off and took us where?"

"To my lovely cabin of course! If you mean where on the map, about two and a half hours west out of Washington." 

"This cabin is a rendezvous for you two in case you were ever arrested?"

"Very clever," Loveless said after a pause, having shared a glance with Antoinette. "I'm not too worried though, you'll be on the run and won't be able to snitch me out on this particular little secret I think."

_ I can explain why I did this after Jim's murderer is in jail, they'll understand._ Artie thought, he wanted to say it but wanted Loveless to trust him, at least as much as possible. "So you brought me here. An interesting surprise for you I'm sure ma'am."

"There have been stranger, Mr. Gordon." Antoinette piped sweetly from behind her napkin.

"I'm sure." Artie smiled. Although he caught a small glimmer of himself in his glass and thought he looked rather heinous with half of his face blooming with purple and brown, and the prospect of someone stranger seemed disturbing and unlikely.

Loveless cleared his throat. His imperfections made him a naturally jealous man and he wanted to stay in the conversation. "So I brought you here and stitched up your head once I determined you were going to live. Now I have a question for you Mr. Gordon."

"Go on, then."

"What is it you propose to do?"

"You said so yourself Doctor, I'm going to avenge Jim's murder. Which is why I have to ask who this man is. You claim he has a vendetta against you and Jim? He's tried to kill me three times, the first time he killed Jim accidentally instead, and the other two to keep me from coming after him."

"Yes, I'm beginning to think I might have overestimated his skill…" Loveless had cleaned his plate, and Artie was just finishing his own. Antoinette quickly offered them seconds, but they both refused. Artie politely insisted the one plate had been like having seconds and thirds as well. That seemed to please Dr. Loveless, the little man folded his hands, "Well you're certainly more polite when your life isn't at stake. I'll keep that in mind."

Antoinette giggled and shook her head slightly, making her curls bounce again. The two of them, Artemus concluded, shared their own special blend of humor he didn't quite understand. "Should I bring out dessert Miguelito?"

"Oh, give us ten minutes to digest dear."

She took the dishes through another door that lead outside, presumably to rinse them.

"Are you ready to answer my question?"

Loveless rolled his eyes but didn't seem genuinely annoyed. "Very well. His name is Stephen Shipley."

"Shipley?" Artemus stopped him. "That almost sounds familiar, I think Jim might have mentioned it to me once."

"I doubt it, Mr. West does… didn't even remember the man." Loveless said quickly. "See Mr. Shipley served in the war…"

A lopsided smirk crossed Artie's face that stopped Loveless short when he saw it. Artie looked at the Doctor's confused expression and couldn't help laughing. "Let me guess," Artie said after a moment, one hand against his throbbing head. "Somehow this Shipley fellow blames Jim for something that happened during the war."

"Well yes, but why is that funny Mr. Gordon?" Loveless asked, smirking slightly.

"A lot of things happened during the war that shouldn't have. I bet Jim wasn't even responsible!" Artie sighed in a sing-song sort of way with his hand covering his face. "So what happened exactly?"

"Shipley was on the confederate side, fighting with his brother Paul or Peter, I forget, whom West shot and killed."

Artie was serious again, "I told you so. I suppose no one ever told him that lots of other people died during that war as well. So where do you come into this?"

"Well, Shipley came to me when I was… recruiting, and explained how he wanted vengeance… said he had learned about my and Jim's… relationship through newspaper stories. I was, of course, happy to accept him at first."

"Oh, I'm sure, it must be hard to find good homicidal help these days."

"Witty… but true. His ideas were simply barbaric, and he had no eye for the big picture at all, although I doubt you care to hear those sorts of discrepancies… He was also greedy and untrustworthy. I found out he had plans to lead the police to me, and even stole some of my inventions! Isn't that atrocious behavior Mr. Gordon?"

"Ha. Well, yes, I suppose so."

Loveless crossed his arms for a moment and frowned at Artemus. He seemed like he might loose his temper at Artie's sarcasm, but finally smiled. "Anyway, I wouldn't stand to be compromised by that filthy little lunatic." He pretended not to see Artie grin. "So I turned the tables and led the police to him."

"Now he wants revenge against you as well. Wasn't he arrested though?"

"Precisely and no, pretended to be simple and escaped... Antoinette! Are you still out there rinsing dishes?"

"The pots!" Antoinette sang back, and they heard her clanging unnecessarily for good measure. "You make such a mess when you cook Miguelito!"

"Oh!" Loveless hit the table in mock annoyance. "Did you hear what she said to me Artemus?! Artemus?"

Artie's eyes grew wide, his brown irises fully reflecting the lamp on the table. He minutely heard Dr. Loveless asking after him but couldn't find his voice to answer.

_Jim had already taken up an armchair with a book in his lap. He pretended to be uninterested when Artie leaned through the stable door and yelled down the hall, "I'm going!" Artie could just see the back of Jim's head that turned slightly towards him. One arm waved dismissively over the arm of the chair. _

_ "Go then Artie! You don't need my permission." _

Loveless slid off his chair, looked warily over the table at his guest. "Mr. Gordon? Are you well?"

_ Artie blinked then grinned, tipping down the brim of his hat. "Okay. Just try not to make a mess while I'm gone Jim!" _

Artie let his head sink into his palms with a horrified groan. "I can't believe I said that."

"You didn't say anything wrong Artemus." Loveless said, suddenly by his ear. "Antoinette, come here please! Artemus, are you faint?"

"What's wrong Miguelito?"

"Oh, I don't know. He must have a concussion after all… Artemus?"

"Can't he hear you? I'll get him some water."

"Get a basin, I think he's going to be sick. Do we have any stronger powders than aspirin?"

_He waited just long enough to see Jim turn, one green eye looking at him over the top of the couch, glittering with a devious look. "Well now I'm going to have to. Bye Artie." Then Artie disappeared into the stable, saddled his horse and left. The only time he thought about the train at all was on the way back when he remembered that he had promised Jim's horse an apple. _

Artie took a deep breath and blinked, surprised to find himself on the wooden floor of the kitchen. Antoinette and Loveless were just rushing to his side and he waved them off, embarrassed. Loveless pointed out then, sounding almost concerned, that Artie had torn his stitches on the side of the table.

"So, where exactly do we find this Shipley fellow?" Artie muttered.

Loveless smiled a small but conniving smile and insisted the agent lay still while he re-stitched the cut with his long strange fingers.


	10. Chapter 9

(AN: Will this chapter be a cliffhanger Pet? Who knows! I've reworked this chapter more times than I can count, but… well… read on. Feel free to tell me what you all think will happen! Partially for my amusement partially because I'm rewriting chapter ten for the most part, or adding to it and making ten be eleven... big dramatic sigh, but the story will be better for it even… And Maurobar! You've given me permission to beat Artie up? Heh heh… oh the devious ideas I have…)

Chapter Nine: 5th Symphony 1st movement - Tchaikovsky

"Alright, listen to this Gordon." Loveless said, bouncing in the hay that covered the floor the freight car.

The doctor made it perfectly clear he wasn't comfortable with Artie's chosen mode of transport, but Artie insisted it was the only respectable way for on-the-lamb convicts to travel, even if it involved a lot of bouncing around with a lot of irritable cattle. Loveless had to differ, stating rather proudly he had twenty years to Artie's two days at being a convict, and there were certainly better ways to travel.

"Listening." Artie hummed. Lying rather peacefully on his back with his pistol held loosely on his stomach.

Loveless edged away from a Holstein who seemed particularly fed up with the little Doctor bumping into her legs. "You've ruined your suit you know."

Artie smiled slowly. "You have a plan?" Lying in the hay in his black Sunday-best made him look like a misplaced corpse. It almost gave Loveless a chill, but his envy of the larger man's ability to relax overcame that feeling.

"I suspect he's at my laboratory in Missouri. Not so far from the town where you and Jim were investigating those counterfeiting rings."

"Would greedy, murderous Shipley have anything to do with that, by the way?"

"Maybe, that's not important Artemus. Assuming he is at my lab it would probably be pretty simple to just sneak up on him…"

Artie sat up, tucking his pistol into his jacket. "That's hardly a plan Loveless. Would he have guards? Won't he be expecting me? You saw, we were all over the newspaper. I bet he's even expecting the both of us."

"You didn't think of that when you broke me out?"

Artie glared then looked away. "If I hadn't he would have either killed me by now or…"

"I would have framed you for the murder, personally."

"Nice to know." Artie answered after a moment. "So if he's expecting us to show up…?"

Loveless stood up, but immediately sat down again when the freight trembled on the tracks. "He'll be expecting us to try something clever…"

"Which is why you proposed the rather un-clever plan of simply approaching him in the open?" Artie finished nearly whispering. He crossed his legs and rested his chin on his upturned palm, thinking hard. "He's a smart man, obviously, he'd predict that…"

Loveless snickered. "You're mistaking intelligence with hate. He isn't so smart. If he were you wouldn't have managed to elude him with your little jail break."

"Okay, so Shipley isn't the brightest chap." Artie said in a distracted voice. "What if you approach in the open and distract him, and I'll lead the local authorities in the back way."

"You're not the heroic protagonist in this Artemus." Loveless said, a grin stretching over his face like the Cheshire Cat. "If you remember the newspaper, the reward for your arrest was the same amount as mine. I'm telling you, if I go in the front he'll be expecting you in the back, if you go in the front he will be expecting me in the back."

"So we both go in the front? I don't think so, if he killed James West and… oh, I just remembered." Artie sighed, probably more dramatically than he needed to. "There was a wire from Missouri that said Voltaire had been clearly spotted."

"Yes." Loveless paused, "But you and West killed him."

"All's fair Doctor. So how do you suppose he was spotted then?"

Loveless shrugged, "It was probably a rumor. People are exceptionally suggestible."

The two stared at each other for a long moment; the steely gray eyes into the soft brown, but Artemus knew he had to give in. "Fine then, we need a plan that's elaborately simple. How much does Mr. Shipley know about me Doctor?"

WWW

Artie didn't think it was possible to hide a laboratory in Missouri. Then again he would never have thought it was possible for a little man like Miguelito Loveless to continuously elude trained agents like he and Jim time and time again. Especially when he apparently had numerous bases.

The long, one story building looked like a regular country house; accept for the line of long tin chimney stacks, the wide loading doors on either side and it's irregular size. It stood, quite literally, in the middle of nowhere. It was so purposefully inconspicuous it was ominous. Artie was beginning to believe Loveless when he said people would just turn the other cheek at strange things like a lab in the middle of unoccupied Missouri.

Artemus was also sure that they had been seen, again quite literally, coming from miles away. Doctor Loveless assured him there were no windows along the side they approached and the gently uphill road kept more secrets than it appeared to. Those were flaws he said, which was why he had been forced to abandon it and many inventions such as his Synthesis machine.

Shipley would have no guards because there was no possible way he could pay for them. Unlike the unfortunate Clarence, regular men wouldn't be satisfied doing dirty work without high pay. Loveless knew that for a fact. Shipley would be alone, and eager to find his prey again.

They came in a one horse cart because having two horses would have been an embarrassing way to reveal themselves. The cart was again stolen by Artie.

_You're quite the criminal, I'm impressed. Is that a personal talent or something they teach all Secret Service agents? _

Artie would have liked to be in disguise, but stealing a cart had already pressed their luck. Surely it would be reported to the police and find its way back to Richmond. Stealing clothing in his size would have been like leaving a signed portrait. But Loveless had kindly pointed out that he was hardly recognizable with the right side of his face swollen and purple, and if Artie was really uncomfortable he could always think of himself in disguise as Mr. Hyde.

_Thank you Doctor, I'm so glad I have you here for this little misadventure._ Artie had quipped back with perfect sarcasm.

Dry yellow grass stretched on into a tree dotted plain. It looked like summer although there were only two or three weeks before Christmas. Artie wasn't entirely sure of the date and didn't particularly care. He was too busy looking out at the pretty scene and waiting for Loveless' signal.

It came in the form of a loud crash that vibrated slightly through the wooded wall Artemus had his back pressed against. That meant that Loveless had been disarmed and more importantly Shipley was thoroughly distracted. Artie could now make his way to the loading door on the opposite side of the building.

_"Then you sneak into the building and get his attention, a crash or explosion, you're good at that sort of thing." Loveless said sarcastically. _

_Artemus decided to take that as a compliment, "When he comes after me you're going to do what?" _

_"Well, you could always just shoot him. Use one of your bombs, isn't that vengeance enough for West?" Loveless said casually, but Artie only responded with a dubious look. Artemus wasn't in the mood to discuss justice with the little psychopath he had put in prison. "Fine then, that wouldn't work anyway. As soon as you force the door open all the entrances will lock and the room will start filling with a knock out gas." _

_"Oh boy. Your own little security system?" _

_"Of course. But jokes aside… get caught, make it look like you hadn't intended it." _

_"What? He'll shoot me." _

_"Not after I've had a chat with him." _

Artie quietly unhooked the horse and led it around the building. It seemed ridiculous to believe that any one man would need so many precautions taken against him, especially when the assaulting team consisted of Doctor Miguelito Loveless and the remaining half of Grant's finest Secret Service team. Yet, the very thought answered the question. What kind of man could kill James West? Especially in such a wanton manner as burning the fingerprints off and manipulating a poor boy who would never know what he had done… and staging two attacks against Artie because he was a _loose end._

The loading door slid open easily on its hinges, Artie pulled a match from his jacket pocket and looked inside. It was fairly large, like a sitting room with crates piled against one side and a wooden floor. Artie lit the match and held it to the horse's haunches. The mare's black eyes grew wide then she whinnied in fear and bolted forward into the room.

The tiny flame went out as soon as the horse reached the far wall, still bucking and making a fuss. Artie heard a soft whirring sound and stepped back. The door quivered and slammed shut without assistance, leaving Artie on the outside.

Inside he could still hear the horse kicking; she would be frightened and confused in the cold dark room. Surely wondering how she could have been wrong in trusting the human who had brought her here.

"Sorry girl, but you'll be alright." Artie whispered.

_"From the loading dock if you count oh, one, two… three four five." Loveless counted on his fingers, "Yes, five windows. Go in the fifth window and cause another distraction." _

_"How big?" _

_"Not so much big as noisy. I can't believe you're taking my word on all this." _

_"I trust you as far as you can trust me to get you out in the end." _

_"…Indeed." _

Artie smashed the fifth glass with the butt of his pistol. The afternoon sun made the broken shards sparkle in a way that could almost be called pretty. He was careful not to cut himself on the little shards in the sill but he could feel tiny invisible slivers sink into his palms anyway.

It wouldn't have come as a surprise if Loveless and Shipley had been waiting together, fully armed for his arrival on the other inside. Yet, Artemus had a certain amount of trust in the Doctor. Trust, at least, in their mutually understood partnership. Broken glass crunched under his shoes as Artie lowered himself inside the building.

"Invention room." Artie muttered with a bit of a smirk. Loveless hadn't been too happy about directing Artie here. Partially because he was allowing a government man to see some of his more insidious work, but mostly because he was allowing Artemus to blow one of them up. Unfortunately for the doctor, Artie didn't have to actually harm any of the inventions, but he wanted to.

_Synthesis 6-12_ caught his eye as he surveyed the room, amongst all the charts and crates, machines and seemingly random parts. Loveless had conveniently failed to tell Artemus what exactly the machine did, even when Artemus had brought it up numerous times. It was long and coffin shaped, although a bit larger than one, and went up as high as Artie's chest.

Although Artie considered himself an intelligent man, finally having a first hand look at the thing failed to tell him anything about it. Eyes darting nervously towards the door, he allowed a bit of his curiosity to leak through, and tried to lift the lid that was hinged on one side like a luggage trunk but it wouldn't budge.

_Fine,_ Artie thought and drew a little black marble from his jacket pocket, _I'll blow it up. If Loveless went through so much trouble to keep me from knowing what this does, then that means it doesn't do anything I would approve of. _

Logical, Artie concluded, and tossed the bomb. He dropped behind another solid looking machine and covered his ears, careful of the stitches above the right. The bomb exploded with the sound of scraping metal. Then an electrical sizzle began and small pops like a fire crackers. Through chaos of sounds Artie thought he heard a muffled shriek of pain. It sounded familiar but Artie failed to connect it with a face. It wasn't Loveless… was it Shipley? The scream was cut off abruptly with a crash and another series of small explosions.

Artemus stood slowly when the machine seemed to be finished with its dramatic death. Batting away oily smoke with his hand Artie could have smiled at his handiwork, but his mind was still plaguing him with the echo of that familiar scream. _Whose was it? _Heavy footsteps approached the door on the far side. Artie stopped, realizing it was time to put his and Loveless' plan into action.

Pistol in hand he jogged towards the window and waited for the sound of the door opening. It took all his effort to keep his back turned when he knew the murderer was going to open the door.

The heavy metal door careened into the wall, denting the wood, and ricocheted back trembling on its hinges, "Artie!", and slammed shut. Artie's body seemed to react before his mind comprehended. Spinning around, wide eyed, he squeezed the trigger. The bullet hit the middle of the door at chest level and imbedded itself into the steel just as it closed with a bang.

Artie's eyes narrowed and he cocked his head slightly so his less abused left eye faced the door, and his neck seemed to creak like a leather strap when he did so. The door opened again, only this time very slowly, and Jim edged from behind it eyeing Artie's pistol.

Breathing seemed like too complicated a thing to do for a long moment. Artie opened his mouth to try to draw a breath, or speak, or do anything at all but he seemed impossibly stuck. _Struck stupid, that's what it's called,_ a weak voice echoed in his hopelessly empty mind while his eyes watched Jim turn to look at the bullet hole in the door with a slightly offended air.

"What on Earth are you doing, Artie?" Jim asked, his eyes shifting between Artie and the gun. He put a hand on his hip, cool as ever.

"Oh." Artie almost choked when he couldn't remember if he was supposed to be inhaling or exhaling. His finger quivered over the trigger while he struggled with the impossible reality of the image in front of him. "Well you see… I think… you know… well… ho…hold on a moment." He closed his eyes a briefly, then opened them, genuinely surprised to find Jim still standing before him. "Well, I'm… avenging your murder."

Artie blinked, and lowered his pistol, but it slipped from his hand before he could replace it in his pocket. When he stooped to pick it up he kicked it clumsily instead. It skittered across the room where Jim picked it up and stuck it in his belt. Artie stood up and pressed a hand against his mouth.

Jim raised an eyebrow, then smiled slightly. "Thanks, can I help?"


	11. Chapter 10

(AN: Okay okay, I don't think most of you fell for the whole "I killed Jim" thing… Oh well, I have a few more twists and turns left. I rewrote this chapter, and the next, and somehow ended up with a whole extra chapter in the process. That's what took me so long to post this. Anyway, thanks for the reviews Pet, Maurobar and Kelly! Well, I'll post the next on Monday, and we should be done by Valentines Day. Until then I've to contend with real life which doesn't really seem so important when I'm about one cliffhanger away from my untimely demise! Ha! Chao!)

Chapter Ten: Andante de Moto – Tchaikovsky

(Scene 18 Intrada variation number two)

Artie didn't ask for his pistol back. The way his hands shook he would likely just shoot himself in the foot, or more likely and God forbid, he would shoot Jim. There was something unsettling in the way each fresh look at his partner made electricity shoot through him like it did at Jim's first unexpected appearance. Somehow some part of him hadn't accepted what he was seeing.

His lips twitched as Jim quickly leaned out the door, surveyed the hall then closed it firmly. Jim's clothing was dirty and threadbare on the knees. His hair was out of order, but he looked normal, healthy, if not a bit ruffed up and hollow. Most importantly he was alive. _Considerably better than last time._

"Are you okay Artie? What happened?" Jim's green eyes traveled over the marred bruises on Artie's face. He looked incredulous as if he was more willing to believe it was makeup than real contusions.

Once Jim was close enough Artie reached out as if to touch the man's shoulder but stopped himself. His seemed to skip a beat that caused a shiver to run up his back and, involuntarily, he drew a small breath. Artie clenched his jaw studying the green eyes before him. _Blood test positive, fingerprints positive…science doesn't lie. I don't understand this._

Jim looked his partner up and down, wholly expecting Artie to be shot or worse from his behavior. "Are you wounded? What's wrong?" He impatiently didn't wait for Artie to answer. "I heard you scream."

Artie's mouth dropped open as if he wanted to say something but couldn't.

"Were those your explosions?"

"What? Oh Lord. What did you just say?"

"Which part? Artie…" Jim sounded as if he needed to hit something, but Artie didn't seem to notice.

"You _are_ alive aren't you? Hey, wow! You were never even dead!" Artie laughed. The sound of it was unsettling even to his own ears, so he couldn't bring himself to be offended when Jim took a step back and eyed him suspiciously. "Sorry. You know, I'm not even sure I'm surprised…Not really." Artie said over his shoulder as he circled the machine he had just destroyed.

The thing had toppled when the machinery in the base had collapsed. Now the coffin like top lay on its side, still smoldering and popping with electricity. Using the heel of his shoe Artie gave the lid a solid kick, causing it to open partially with hydraulic hiss, then he did the same on the other end and the lid fell flat to the floor. A charred smoking body fell face down on top of it.

Artie crouched down to get a closer look but his face paled and he had to draw away. The wavy brown hair of the person inside was one of the only recognizable features left on the body, but that was quite enough and he didn't want to see anymore. When he turned away he saw that Jim had wrinkled his nose, cringing, and both sickened by the smell of burning flesh. "You did hear me scream," Artie said in a voice muffled from behind his hand, "so did I."

Jim shook his head slightly in disbelief and approached the machine. The charred flesh crackled as Jim touched it, but Artie could not force himself to turn around and see so he addressed the wall and continued to speak. "See Jim," Something in his chest jumped when he said the name, "you were murdered, but it was only a copy… so there would be no doubt…and Voltaire too… oh, Jim, are you okay? Have you been here this whole time, with Shipley?"

Jim wasn't listening. "God, Artie… that's you. Why would he do all this just to sustain a counterfeit ring?"

"Counterfeit ring? What does this have…? No, didn't you know that…? Wait, listen…" Jim glanced at his partner, arching an eyebrow at the garbled string of half finished questions. He could see Artie's shoulder's tense beneath the black jacket. "Jim, shoot, you need to leave." Artie ran towards the window breathing in small taut breaths as if he were nauseous. "I heard footsteps, Shipley…" He stopped, brushing glass off the sill with his sleeve for Jim to pass through.

_Go, _Artie mouthed, hoping his eyes expressed what he felt to be a life and death matter. Jim narrowed his eyes, _go where, do what?_ He seemed to ask, but finally nodded, returning Artie's pistol and vaulted himself silently out the window.

_What the hell, _Artie thought, _is all this about?_ He waited until the door began to creak open and moved as if he was going for the window. Expectantly he heard the cock of a rifle and stopped without turning.

"Drop your gun."

Artie dropped it, letting it slide out of his hand with feigned reluctance. It was an infinitely curious thing for Artemus to hear the man's, Stephen Shipley's, voice for the first time. He addressed Artemus as if he hated him but Artie could swear that he was the only one with any right to hate anyone. Yet, did he? Artie didn't know quite what to think. He had hated Shipley for murdering Jim, but he hadn't… not really.

Well Jim wasn't dead after all. Everything seem just that much more pointless. _Why hadn't Shipley hurt Jim? He hates Jim… Jim killed his brother, and for some delusional reason Shipley started a reign of terror over it…or pretended to._

"Put your hands up, and turn around."

Artie did so, his eyes scanned the window as he turned, looking for some sign of his partner but there was none. He doubted Jim had left for help, that wasn't like him, so it all came down to where he went and what he got in his mind to do.

They faced each other now. Shipley's sunken blue eyes seemed to accuse Artie of something, they avoided Artie's gaze and instead flickered over his bruised face, now yellowing around the eye, and his tarnished black suit which was the same he had worn to Jim's funeral. _Or rather the un-Jim's funeral._ What Shipley saw caused a disgusted sneer to cross his face.

_You're not the heroic protagonist in this Artemus, _Loveless had told him. Artie's eyes widened, trying to catch the eyes of the man who had only ever been a fleeing shadow trying to lead Artie into his traps.

Shipley then looked to the machine and the sickly corpse inside with a slight disappointment but seemed resigned enough to accept it. "Move, I left your little cohort tied up." Shipley said, motioning with his rifle. They walked in a slow circle until Artie was closest to the door. Then Artie turned to walk into the hall, mutely taking directions with the rifle pressed firmly to the base of his skull.

Artie opened a metal door and went inside when his captor nodded only a short walk. They entered another room like the last with a large smoke stack in the center of the ceiling and a steam powered printing press beneath it. To one side were stacks of bond paper, and stacks of pretty uncut bills bound in brown paper on the other.

"I don't believe it." Artie muttered. Two large sheets covered similar forms, and as improbable as it seemed Artie counted three printing presses amongst the crates and ink barrels.

Shipley snorted, horse-like, in something like a laugh. "You'd better believe it, it's your handy work." Artie refrained himself from asking but Shipley continued, "You sent the entire state of Missouri into corruption by abusing your government position. Your partner West tried to stop you but you killed him." 

_Thank you Loveless._ Artie thought sarcastically. The Doctor said he would make sure Artie was worth keeping around, but surely there were less damning ways to do it.

"That's clever, wish I'd thought of it myself." Artie asked in a cautiously low voice.

Shipley ignored the quip, prodding Artie like a steer to walk sideways. A steel workbench came into view behind the printing press, with limp severed ropes draped over it. Artie wasn't surprised and waited patiently until he heard Shipley curse under his breath.

"I should have known." Shipley repented, not to Artie but aloud to himself. "Part of your plan?" He prodded Artie over towards the printing press.

"You bet." Artie said naturally. "And you fell for it, right Loveless?"

An awkward silence followed. Artie cursed under his breath, letting his hands fall to his sides. "Loveless?" He asked again, pretending to search all the corners of the room for his _cohort_. The rifle was removed briefly as Shipley cleared his throat, then an instant he struck Artie in the back of the head with the butt of the weapon almost casually.

_That was unnecessary…_Artie thought, dropping to his knees. His limbs refused to cooperate in his half conscious stupor. Shipley grabbed his collar and dragged him a few feet while Artie was still blinking away the dizziness and numbing blackness. "Hold still." Shipley said and propping Artie back then proceeded to tie him up with several ropes that went around Artie's waist and shoulders and one around the neck.

Artie, rather impressed that he hadn't passed out finally took a deep breath to disperse the last of the darkness, and was left with a throbbing ache in the back of his head. His captor regarded him for a moment, and looked to be a very ordinary man with dark blonde hair and a quietly round face. "Now you're all tangled up in the wheels, move too much and you'll strangle yourself." He grinned daringly and Artie, defiant, leaned forward.

The press spluttered to life and the ropes tightened immediately. The one around his neck began pulling back but Shipley stopped the machine, although not with any particular haste.

The man knew he had outsmarted Artemus, "Tell the _Doctor_ to be careful, if he pulls on the ropes too much the machine will start up and your head isn't in a good place." Artie didn't have any trouble looking worried. "I've got to go get something, assuming that little worm hasn't found it first."

_Not quite part of the plan, _Artie thought, holding perfectly still. He couldn't help remembering when Loveless had told him that Shipley wasn't that smart. Nor could he forget how Loveless had refused to tell him what his preposterous machine did. _Why? _Artie swallowed and listened for the sound of the door he had come through and Shipley had exited. Loveless assumed that Artie would figure out the unlikely truth if he'd been told, although Artie wasn't at all sure he would ever have guessed.

_'Oh'_ Artie imagined the Doctor saying. _'That little artifact of mine makes exact human doubles. I made it on a whim.'_ He couldn't decide if he was angry with Loveless for tricking him or himself for falling for it.

He swallowed again, his heart sinking. What had he gotten himself into? Who could he trust?

_Jim_. His mind reassured him. The encounter with his murdered partner seemed like some kind of ghostly torment his own mind had conjured.

The press shivered slightly when Artie began fumbling gently for the tiny pocket knife in his sleeve. Except for the noose around his neck, everything was going quite swimmingly according to plan, even with Loveless' lies. His heels slid across the wooden floor in an effort to keep his back against the machine while reaching into his sleeve. As for Shipley, Artie expected that any moment the lunatic would return and find his own plans weren't going quite as well.


	12. Chapter 11

(AN: You're all probably all going to form ulcers from all my cliff hangers! But I got home a day early, so here is the chapter, also a day early. If that doesn't work… try bismuth. Anyway, thanks for the reviews Pet, Maurobar and Apple! Apple- my mom said getting my ears pierced wouldn't hurt, so at least Pet has given you some pretty good motherly advice, lol! Enjoy, or if you're emo, don't.)

Chapter Eleven: Piano Sonata No. 3 in E, Allegro Patetic - Schubert

A distant crash brought Artemus from his thoughts. He looked up, suddenly feeling the vibration faintly though the soles of his shoes. The rope pulled against his neck and Artie, wide eyed, reminded himself not to fight against it.

Once he had gotten the small knife from his sleeve he had let it sit, barely grasped between his fingers and did not try to use it. Artie would admit he was tempted. He frowned slightly and tried to remember how he had justified the decision. Like a series of small explosions someone was coming his way, and Artie knew that Shipley was a greater enemy to Loveless than he himself was. Loveless still needed him.

Shipley, quite literally, kicked the door in with a strength the slightly fleshy blonde didn't seem likely to possess. "God! This is so frustrating!" He hollered before Artie could even see him. "How did you know? You and Loveless? I can't believe it! Is that what you were doing?" He rounded the machine and came into Artie's view at last, snarling and red faced. "Letting him out?" His hand landed on the wheel and pulled, causing the rope to jerk Artie's head back.

Wheezing in a panicked breath Artie decided not to wait for Loveless or Jim, wherever the later might be, and kicked Shipley squarely in the knee. Shipley yelped, falling forward against Artie and dropped the rifle. Artie kicked it away, and caused the press to whirr to life again. Shipley yelped again, thrusting his knee into Artie's chest in his scramble to pick himself up and turn the thing off again before he got caught in it himself.

Then the mad man stood, still seething but looking more sober than he did a moment before. "Fine, _Gordon._ I can still make this work out."

"Make what work?"

Shipley recollected his gun and aimed it carefully at Artie's head. He seemed to be considering very carefully whether he should shoot Artie. "It's revenge Gordon." He said in a quiet stressed voice.

"Against Jim West?"

"Against you."

Artie blinked in confusion, and cast a quick eye around the room for either Jim or Loveless. The little knife was still a comfortable secret held between his fingers. "What did I ever do?" The question was innocent enough, but he was beginning to think Loveless had piled quite a few untruths against him.

"My brother, Artemus Gordon, you don't remember him. He wasn't even supposed to be in that war! And you…"

Artie smiled a slightly crazed little smirk, because everything was becoming appallingly clear. "And I ended his life before he ever had a chance to shine." Artie hoped Loveless was ready to make an appearance and if not the Doctor than Jim. As he tried to move away from the rifle and the wheel of the press began to turn slowly in an uneasy hiss of steam.

Shipley sighed in exasperation, shifting his weight uneasily as if he were indecisive about something. Still holding the rifle he used his free hand to start removing the ropes around Artie's neck. "You try anything and I'm _not_ shutting it off again." He continued with the ropes until Artemus was free from the machine, although his arms were still tied down at the waist and shoulders. Then Shipley stepped hastily back, motioning once more with the rifle.

"Let's get one thing straight Gordon…" Shipley began but was cut off.

"You're a murderer Mr. Gordon and you deserve everything that's coming to you." Loveless appeared from a little section of wall that slid back into place like a door after he stepped past the frame. He was grinning from ear to ear, and obviously quite pleased with himself. It was difficult to determine whether his newly acquired pistol was aimed at Artie or Shipley.

_You lied to me, you knew Jim wasn't dead_. Artie thought furiously at the Doctor approaching him in his strange uneven gait. The rifled trained on Artie's face kept him from responding. There was always a proper time to keep one's mouth shut. Artie usually missed those moments but now seemed appropriate.

"And I think you should know I do not appreciate you getting me mixed up in this, Mr. Shipley."

_"And how will I know that you haven't switched sides?" Artie got up and stretched suddenly, making the cows twitch nervously. _

_ Loveless frowned and pushed himself further against the wall of the train. "Well, I'd let you know if I had, it could mean my freedom after all." _

_ Artie conjured up his most sinister grin, "And all the while you'd hope that you made it back to your lovely cabin before me?" _

_ "Well, I'll say something, to let you know that everything is still according to plan. You're an agent, you do things like that often enough I imagine?" _

_ "What will you say then?" _

"Artemus." Loveless said slowly. "You're all tied up, Artemus."

Artie struggled to get to his feet without his hands. Loveless' comment was comforting, and in return he sent Loveless the smallest of ambiguous smirks. It had seemed the doctor had been very purposeful in mentioning his name twice, but in whose favor that worked for Artie wasn't sure.

Loveless stopped a good ten feet away, facing Shipley. The two stared each other down in a stand off that seem rather comical to Artemus since neither was a real gunman; just two felons with mad incentives. Artemus tried to take a step back and away but Shipley grabbed his collar, and being slightly shorter Artemus made for a good shield. The rifle bore again into the base of his skull.

"Now, Loveless, are you going to shoot him for me?" Shipley said quietly. "It'd just save me time and a bullet."

"I'm not going to shoot him, not while we're working as a team. Right Artemus?" Loveless said, seeming to emphasis the word team and moved to the side. Shipley also moved, keeping Artemus between himself and the doctor. "That's called loyalty, you wouldn't know about that."

Loveless had insisted that Shipley was easy to provoke, and made it sound like a thing to be ashamed of. Artie had barely resisted the urge to point out wanting to kill every man, woman and child in America because of a few short jokes would also constitute as being easy to provoke. Yet at the same time, he knew breaking a man he had spent years trying to put into prison, out, also fit the bill, therefore he kept any sardonic comments to himself. 

"It's you two who don't know anything about loyalty." Shipley jabbed Artie in the back of the head. "You somehow think I'm wrong for seeking vengeance when you're the murderer."

"Yet you're exempt from all your own rules." Loveless commented in a droll tone. For a brief instant Artie thought he saw the doctor's eyes flicker to the far wall which was piled with crates and ink barrels.

"And you don't suppose you killed anyone's brother during that same battle? For heaven's sake quit hitting me with that!" Artie raised his voice slightly, knowing quite certainly that Jim was nearby, it was just a matter of getting Shipley's back turned. Artie's need for justice had been hampered considerably, and although he was just getting to know the fine Mr. Shipley he was certain a bullet in the back was the only real remedy for his attitude.

Artie stepped away, acting annoyed at the constant prodding. "Therefore you find it fit that I should be stalked, tormented and deceived?" A harsh jab and Shipley ushered Artie back between him and Loveless. "And poked!" Artie continued loudly, returning to his place willingly. "Therefore you find it fit that I should be stalked, tormented, deceived, and poked, for the death of your brother who…"

Expecting Shipley to have some kind of defense for himself Artie was a little disturbed by the silence behind him. "How do you even know it was me?"

"Captain Gordon. You were commended for your quick eye even! I heard perfectly clear even from the other side of the river." Artie heard the wooden forestock creaking in Shipley's tight grip.

_If I get out of this without a bullet in my head I'll never complain again. _

Loveless met his eyes while still holding the pistol that was nearly the length of his arm. Those eyes flickered once more to the crates piled to the side, and Artie gave a barely perceptible nod to show that he understood.

Very slowly Artie slid the knife out of his sleeve. It wasn't supposed to be wholly inconspicuous. In fact Artemus wanted Shipley would see it and he did. "For pities sake!" Shipley shouted at him, giving the impression that he thought Artemus was being unnecessarily insolent. He tangled his fingers into Artie's hair and wretched his head down and forced him to his knees, while tearing the knife from his sleeve with the other. "Were you really going t…" His sentence ended with a surprised gasp.

Focusing on Shipley behind him and trying to determine if the knife was going to end up in back distracted Artie from following the two shots he heard. One was from Shipley and the other from the right, but Artie who it had to be. Shipley fell against Artie's back and the dead weight knocked him flat against the wooden floor.

Wetness seeped slowly through Artie's collar onto his neck and matted his hair into sticky ringlets. _Well, he got his dues at least,_ Artie thought in disgust at the hot foreign blood touching his skin. He struggled to push Shipley off his back with his arms still tied but somehow managed and struggled to his knees. Cautiously Jim rose up, holding Artie's pistol up and ready, behind a stack of crates with a smug hint of a smile on his face. Clearly, he had been waiting to put a bullet in Shipley for a while.

A small breath from Shipley caught Artie's attention. His nerves prickling Artie lunged for the gun but Shipley had only to reach out and grab it with his left arm. "Stop it!" Shipley barked almost making Artie's attempt to stop him seem unfair. The butt of the pistol hit Artie hard in the jaw when Ship brought it against his shoulder for a shot. Artie threw his shoulder into the man's back and the two of them collapsed in a heap but not before Shipley had pulled the trigger.

Two others went off as well, but Artie was too dazed and disgusted by the lunatic he couldn't seem to untangle himself from and hardly noticed. After a brief moment of stillness one last pistol shot rang through the room, piling more echoes into the already screaming air. Shipley lay partially sprawled against his back and Artie felt the man convulse. The vibrations from the bullet surged though Artie's back but didn't reach him.

Loveless voice, quiet and indirect in Arties ringing ears but coming closer, asked, "Did I kill him?"

Artie squirmed uncomfortably while trying to get the limp form off of himself with his hands still pinned to his sides. "Check." He responded with some bitterness. "Where's Jim?"

Loveless waved a hand towards his left, not really interested. The Doctor helped, as best he could, to pull Shipley off Artemus. Then he retrieved the little knife from the floor and didn't hesitate to cut Artie free in one deft slash that tore into his jacket sleeve but somehow remarkably missed his flesh.

After pulling the ropes away Artie gave Shipley's limp form a good shove away from him just for his own benefit, then used the abandoned rifle to pull himself up with a groan. "Jim?" He called, edging around Loveless who seemed to be eyeing him with an uneasy curiosity that Artie didn't like.

"Our plan didn't quite go as planned." Loveless said behind him with a slight grin in his tone of voice.

"No, better I'd say." Artie responded, not really listening. His stomach was beginning t0 knot as he jogged towards Jim's cover. "Jim, if you're dead please let me know by your silence."

There was silence.


	13. Chapter 12

(AN: All that's left is this and the epilogue, which I'll post tomorrow. Woo! Then, maybe I'll finally study. I couldn't help wondering if I was in a really foul mood when I originally wrote this chapter… hmm… I got called evil twice and a bratling. Ha, what on Earth is a bratling? A sardonic teenager who is overly prone to cliffhangers? Ha, well I've heard worse. So thanks Apple, Maurobar, Kelly and MADEMOISELLE Pet for the reviews and imput!)

Chapter Twelve: Piano Trio No. 2, E flat, Andante con Moto - Schubert

"You don't even seem to care." Loveless said airily, coming to join Artemus who stood staring down at Jim over the crates. The brown paper had torn on one of the parcels, nipped by the bullet, and counterfeit bills spilled out of it onto the floor, landing on Jim's back and soaking into the blood.

Artie's mouth opened, but for a long moment no words came out. "I don't believe it." With a slight shake of his head he seemed to regain himself and lunged towards his partner's side. He didn't even know if Jim was dead, and felt ridiculous for assuming he was. _Just because he's lying in a pool of blood and doesn't seem to be breathing doesn't mean he's dead._ Loveless grabbed his jacket and stopped him.

Artemus pivoted, towering over the face that looked up at his. He wanted, and felt it was justified, to punch Loveless in the mouth. For a moment Loveless seemed to challenge him as their eyes met. The dangerous insanity was creeping out when he realized Artie was trying to intimidate him, but the doctor shook his head and released Artie's jacket.

"I'm interested to see how you'll use your infamous silver tongue to talk your way out of this one."

Following Loveless finger, Artie's shoulders slumped as a line of solders ran in a swift line past one of the windows and began to beat open the loading door.

"Both of you, drop your weapons, hands up."

The soldiers built an armed half circle between Artie and Loveless and the door. Artie immediately let the rifle slip to the floor and raised his hands, but Loveless was more reluctant. He shifted his weight and glared at the soldiers and Shipley's unmoving body. Clearly this had not been part of his plan, in fact, it hadn't been part of any of his plans. Then he tossed the pistol to the side.

"Jim's back there!" Artie said to Colonel Richmond as he slid between two soldiers. "He needs help."

Richmond's face showed clear disappointment when his eyes met Artie's although his rifle was aimed, less piteously, at the agent's chest. Artie felt like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and gestured urgently to where Jim lay. Richmond seemed to be calculating whether he could trust Artemus. Then, still not quite able to accept the agent as a criminal, decided it was worth possibly being fooled to see. 

He edged around the men and Loveless a contemptuous look, but the little doctor just smiled humorlessly and looked up to his "partner". Artie didn't notice either of them. He was looking at the soldiers, several of whom he knew, and none of them seemed pleased to see him.

"For your sake Artemus, I hope you're going to tell me something that will clear your name from all this."

"Is Jim okay?"

Richmond answered quietly, "I don't know." He must have gestured because two men jogged, rifles cocked, around the criminals and joined Richmond behind the stacks. A moment later they passed by again, more quickly, with Jim carried between them.

"Did he have a pulse, did you che…"

"Now might be a good time to mention Mr. Shipley to the general there." Loveless prompted, still smiling pleasantly at all the men who had invaded his lab.

"Colonel," Artie corrected, "and you be quiet."

"Don't be mad at me, you're the one…"

"You lied. You knew about Shipley and purposefully let me…"

"Are you surprised? I'm disappoi…"

"Both of you stop talking."

Richmond moved in front of them, taking a moment to pick up their discarded guns. He held several of the phony bills in one hand, then looked at the rifle in the other. "Is this your rifle Artemus?"

"No, that belongs to Steven Shipley, that man there." Artie pointed, "He shot Jim."

"But you were holding the rifle."

Artie's face went slack when he realized what the Colonel was insinuating.

Loveless cleared his throat slightly, "Shipley is also very close to bleeding to death. If you want him to live for trial you should help him too." Then he chuckled and everyone in the room cringed. All the men knew Miguelito Loveless by his reputation, and no one was particularly pleased to be dealing with him.

"Not that it would be a real bother if he died, right Mr. Gordon?"

Richmond's lips formed a thin line and he was determined that would be the only reaction he gave the doctor. "I'm going to have a long talk with you both, but this isn't the best place." He pulled a pair of handcuffs from his belt, and motioned for Loveless to turn around. Artemus wasn't sure he liked how complacent Loveless was being. A soldier approached and led Loveless away, grasping his collar.

Shipley stirred slightly when two soldiers began to lift him and Loveless, feeling coy, looked down at the disoriented blue eyes as they opened. "All needless plans of destruction such as yours are inevitably doomed to fail Mr. Shipley."

The eyes flashed slightly in response but said nothing. It occurred to Artemus, somewhere in the midst of his horror that what Loveless said may have been funny. Somehow he wondered if Steven Shipley hadn't gone after the wrong Artemus Gordon. Were there many?

"Artemus, Shipley is the one who called us here." Richmond said, looking to where Shipley had been, but he had been carried away and left nothing but a dark smear.

"That man is unstable." Artie said, barely controlling his voice. He knew he couldn't trust himself to speak just yet. He didn't know what to say and he didn't know if anyone still trusted him enough to believe anything he said anyway.

Richmond nodded slightly, seeming incredibly wearied by everything, and Artie suspected he looked as tired as the Colonel felt. He seemed about to say something when one of the soldiers jogged back into the room and handed the Colonel another pair of handcuffs. Then two other men entered behind.

"Remove your shoes, Mr. Gordon." Richmond said expressionlessly and met Artie's wide brown eyes. "Remove his jacket, and search him thoroughly."

Artie kicked off his shoes. He knew he had nothing hidden in them, but lying to people was what he did after all, and Richmond knew it. The soldiers took his jacket and patted him down, while Artemus just stood feeling awkward. Richmond motioned for him to turn around when they were through.

"What happened to your head?" He asked, sounded disinterested as he handcuffed Artemus more tightly than Artie knew was necessary.

Artie answered with a somewhat sour grin. "Front or back?" He didn't mention that most of the blood was Shipley's.

"I know what happened to the front." Richmond answered after a moment. "That's why Constable Geig reported you dead after an unsuccessful chase following the prison break." Richmond turned him around, and led him with one hand on his wrists and the other on the back of his neck out of the building. "Then a Mr. Steven Shipley telegraphs and says he's in danger from a Dr. Loveless and Mr. Gordon. Honestly, I thought you might have sent it, but apparently there is a Shipley. Who is he?"

"Show his picture to the store Clerk back at Sullivan, he's who we're looking for."

Richmond said nothing for a moment, but Artie felt a silent puff of frustrated air against the back of his neck. The gravel dug into Artie's bare feet. Artemus had a moment's odd reflection that he had never before walked outside in only his socks. Twilight made the winter air frigid, and Artie remembered why he never wanted to with a shiver.

Two soldiers opened the back of a wagon, and grasping each of Artie's arms pushed him awkwardly inside where he landed at Loveless feet. Loveless looked strangely amused looking down at Artie. "Hello again. I think I'll be glad to have your company. They'll be no fun." He nodded, since his arms were behind his back, to the two men who had joined them inside and shut the doors. The squatted with their rifles tightly grasped and blocked the doors.

Artie struggled to his knees and deposited himself heavily on the bench opposite the doctor. "You're awfully cheerful."

"Thank you. I've decided to adopt a sunny disposition." Loveless beamed at the guards. "After all, I've committed no real crime in all of this."

Artie couldn't help rolling his eyes, "That doesn't exempt you from your past crimes."

"Anything either of you say will be reported to the Colonel and President Grant." One of the guards said suddenly. Artie's heart sank. Would his President and commander understand that what he had done was necessary? Somehow he figured that was too much to hope for, especially after being translated through sketchy and exaggerated reports.

"Now now, don't brood, it doesn't suit you." Loveless said, and laughed when Artie looked at him in surprise. "I was only guessing, but I suppose I was right. If you hadn't had my help Shipley would have found you before you found him, then you'd be dead, and West would be dead and… well. I suppose you know what my machine does now don't you Artemus? Clever isn't it? I wonder what Shipley planned to do with it. He made one of Voltaire apparently, probably disposed of it, what a waste…"

"You just seem to fade in and out of sanity don't you Doctor?"

"You're hardly one to talk." Loveless laughed and began to hum to himself, looking out the barred window as they pulled away from the lab.

Artie wondered if anyone would think it odd if he just curled up on the floor and went to sleep, but he decided he could hold out for the wagon to find a pothole that would throw the demented little doctor to the floor. He had few pleasures for a man who had thrown away his career on revenge.

He had also his partner resurrected and shot down in less time than it took to lace a boot. So he couldn't tell if it was the conflicting memories of Jim's clone mangled on the floor of the Wanderer with Jim face down bleeding to death in the lab or the concussion that was making him feel so lightheaded.

"I sincerely underestimated the threat Mr. Shipley posed, but even the greatest adversaries are weak against bullets, right Artemus? What do you suppose he was going to do with a counterfeiting empire and clones of the Secret Service's finest?"

Artie's chin dipped against his chest, and he tried to absorb what Loveless had told him while shivering slightly with the jitters of some dream he couldn't remember. The inside of the wagon was lit with an oil lamp whose dull light seemed to make the darkness outside seem unreal. The horses pulling them seemed to trot along tirelessly as if they didn't sense all the tension in the air.

"It doesn't seem to have much to do with revenge." Artie thought aloud, "What do _you_ suppose he was going to do?"

Loveless tilted his head to the side. His grey hair was out of place yet he looked completely composed considering his position. The wagon rattled along the hardly used road and the doctor swayed easily with it. "Oh, I don't really know. It's going to take Shipley, West, you and me to put the whole story together. Shipley never saw destruction in the big picture, so he might never explain why, even if he admits to it doing it." He stopped a minute to muse. "I know what I would have done though, but I'll keep that to myself."

"That's probably for the best." Artie smiled slightly, and the two gave their guards an odd conniving look. The guards tightened their holds on their guns and Artie smiled bigger, hoping it wasn't as menacing as it felt. Maybe he was too good at being a criminal after all, but if Shipley was dead or imprisoned he could learn to deal with it. "It's too bad you're going to prison Doctor, I've almost learned to enjoy your company."

Loveless choked momentarily on the sarcasm of Artie's compliment and shrugged, "I'm sure we'll see each other again Mr. Gordon. Don't despair."

Artie turned towards the guards, "You heard that, he's going to try and escape. You should hog-tie him."

"Mr. Gordon! Don't you have any loyalty at all!" Loveless appealed to the guards, trying to look innocent, but both looked more than eager to tie him up or at least gag him so they didn't have to endure any more of the madman's small talk.

Artie didn't want to talk about loyalty, so he ignored the question. The wagon was beginning to slow and the road became smooth suddenly. Artie's stomach knotted. Once it stopped the soldiers aimed their guns. He wasn't sure if his nervousness made him look more guilty or innocent.

"Ready?" Richmond's voice came from outside after several tense moments of waiting in the cramped wagon.

"Yes sir." One answered. The wagon doors opened and the soldiers backed out, joining two others and Richmond. "Dr. Loveless, you first, walk backwards." Loveless only shrugged and gave Artie a cheeky grin as he did so. Then he was plucked out of sight by two soldiers with only the slightest gasp of surprise.

"You next Gordon."

Artemus got to his feet slowly, his knees popping from the long ride. He backed out, doubled over under the low roof. A hand was placed on the small of his back, and two sets of arms grabbed him, jerking him suddenly out of the wagon. Artie managed to get his feet back under him and stand up with some semblance of dignity.

Richmond's face seemed to be changing expressions, and Artie assumed it was because the Colonel didn't know whether to address Artie as a criminal or an agent. He found he couldn't quite stomach Richmond's indecision so he looked at his shoeless feet instead.

They let him inside the small local jail of Sullivan, where soldiers and agents had swarmed into every corner trying to go about their responsibilities. He noticed General Moore, from Genevieve who was helping him and Jim investigate Sullivan's counterfeiting. _Well, he'll be pleased to know I figured that out too. _Being pushed to the side was the local sheriff pretending to be in charge. All of them made ample room for Artie to be led through the main office.

The jail only had a single cell. If it had held any occupants before him and Loveless they had been removed; small potatoes compared to its new occupants. Loveless was handcuffed to a chair, which was in turn, handcuffed to the bars. The Doctor looked surprisingly comfortable and suspiciously at ease, and nodded to Artie as he was escorted in.

Artemus was led to the cot, and Richmond told him to sit down.

"Colonel, I really need have a lot I need to explain. Where is Jim? And Shipley?"

Richmond opened the handcuffs just long enough to loop them around the frame of the cot. Which left Artie hunched forward with his hands between his knees, unable to sit up or lay down.

"This is unnecessary, Colonel."

"I sure hope so. I'll be back soon, after I see Jim." He said without meeting Artie's eyes. Quietly he made sure Loveless was secure and the door was locked before leaving. Two men, different ones, now watched them from outside the bars.

Artie cleared his throat and looked at his feet. His back was already beginning to ache. Shifting slightly, he leaned against the wall and ignored the way the guards stepped forward anxiously when he moved. It was already dark outside, but it could have been as early six or seven and Artie wouldn't have known.

Loveless could be heard humming ever so quietly, but Artie didn't have the energy to tell him to shut up. He was the one, after all, who had forced the Doctor into this mess. Assuming the doctor was any better off rotting in solitude back at Washington.

Sleep came in small fragments that ended when Artie's head slipped away from the wall and made his heart skip when his dreams sent him plummeting. There was a light fall of midnight rain that Artie heard when he woke up from his disturbed sleep, shaking and anxious but unable to stay awake long anyway. The guards took turns sleeping in a chair, and Loveless had dozed off, although Artie had awoken everyone several times by gasping. They only opened their eyes in a moment of sleepy confusion and went back to their rest or silence.

_Why hasn't Richmond come back?_ Artie thought, trying to find some way to sit that didn't strain his back. _Why, indeed._ His mind seemed to answer and Artemus didn't realize he had fallen asleep again. _Richmond__ wouldn't be able to come back if he had to deal with Jim's body. Washington wouldn't understand why there were two. Then again, Jim West has spent his nine lives time and time again, so maybe they would, but from the look of things you're going to be charged for murdering him twice. Richmond wouldn't need to come back if he were having a nice long talk with Steven Shipley about all the terrible things you've done. _

_ "_Open the door, quick."

The voice was only a muffled whisper in Artie's disturbed dreams. Richmond said his name but Artemus remained a dark form slumped against the wall. The agent's mind was caught up in restless dreams, treading sharp rocks under his bare feet while his own charred clone crawled after him, hating him with his own burnt and festering brown eyes. When Richmond grasped his shoulder Artie yelped, trying to pull back but the handcuffs stopped him.

"Artemus." Richmond's voice was raw and spent. The Colonel fumbled to unlock the handcuffs. "I'm sorry. I had to go back to that warehouse. Or lab? Whatever it is. And I had a nice long talk with Steven Shipley. He confessed to the counterfeiting… not directly. But Jackson, the store clerk, and that disturbed boy Clarence recognized him… I didn't even get to look at the documents in your jacket, another agent looked through them for me, but you should have mentioned them…"

Clearly no one had been having a good night.

"The hnn?… documents?" Artie mumbled, he tried to look up but his neck protested. When his hands were free he found sitting up didn't seem as desirable as it had several hours before.

Richmond set Artie's battered shoes before him. Artie took a moment to scrutinize the once nice brogans with distaste before putting them on. Richmond took his arm and pulled him to his feet and handed him his jacket. He slowly put his filthy black jacket, now with the linings and seams cut open by fellow agents, back on for what he vowed to be the last time.

"Let's go."

"Go where?" Artie wasn't aware he had anywhere he was supposed to be.

Richmond was already walking out. "I have it set up to be at all the spots you provided. If we're lucky we can wrap this up and give every town between the Ozarks and the border a clean slate by lunch time. General Moore as had men sending telegrams all night trying to make sure everything is…"

Artie shuffled after the Colonel, stopping only a moment to look at Loveless still tied securely to the chair. Somehow he almost felt guilty.

Loveless face was mostly hidden in shadow, but his Cheshire cat grin and the whites of his eyes shone through the blackness. "How did you find the time to snoop through Shipley's documents I wonder?" He whispered and winked but the gesture was barely visible in the dark.

The guilt was fleeting, Artie must have forgotten for a moment who it was he was pitying. Artie nodded his head almost amiably but didn't smile, "Adieu Doctor, your country thanks you."

Richmond was waiting for him, exhausted and agitated, at the door and Artie walked into his back half asleep without noticing. Richmond walked with him, explaining how practically every horse in the town had been commandeered to spread soldiers and local authorities across Missouri in a mad race to begin what was likely the biggest counterfeiting bust in US history.

Artie wondered if he was really out of trouble or if the counterfeiting had simply pushed him out of center stage for the moment.

Their destination was, surprisingly to Artemus, the hospital. "You're not needed at present, the guard is only a precaution. Shipley is in a private room, also guarded." Richmond explained in a whisper, "He's in pretty bad condition, but after all this he'd be better off dying. That's where his sentence will lead anyway."

"Where do you suppose my sentence will lead?" Artie said, also whispering. Both their voices quavered slightly from exhaustion.

Richmond sighed, and ran a hand slowly over his face, "Being one of the President's boys has its advantages Gordon."

If there was any humor in Richmond's statement Artie failed to recognize it in his exhausted stupor. All he knew is that he didn't plan to wake up ever, unless it involved a bath a meal or Shipley's dishonored funeral.

The hospital, more like a converted townhouse, was awake but quiet. A nurse, some little spit of a girl who seemed almost alarmed at Artie's haggard appearance led him to a room after exchanging a word with Richmond out of ear shot.

Artie didn't notice the bed next to his was occupied because the curtain wasn't drawn and no one was moving in it. Not bothering to remove his shoes or jacket he fell face down onto his bed and let out a heavy groan that was muffled by the starched sheets. Every muscle seemed to complain and sigh all at once. The nurse only set a pitcher of water on the bedside table and brought a chair for the guard who sat outside in the hall and disappeared.

His body seemed confused by the concept of lying comfortably, and his bones popped irritably trying to readjust themselves. Artemus hadn't even seen a bed since his stay in Loveless' cabin. However long ago that had been. The memory seemed at once a recent and distant one. But once his bones and muscles figured out what was happening and where they were, possibly before his mind did, they promptly went limp and Artie didn't even care that the nurse would probably mistake him for dead next time she checked in.

"Artie."

Artie's mind was sinking, perhaps not to sleep but to exhaustion, only dimly flitting with images of blood, counterfeit bills and Loveless queer grin throughout the day.

"Artie?"

"Hmm." He didn't know what he was hearing. The fact that '_Artie' _ was something he was supposed to respond to seemed irrelevant compared to everything that had happened to him, and everything he still had to do before he could begin to reform some kind of normalcy in his life…

"Artie." The urgency finally caught Artie's attention, and he lifted his head with a start as if he had been shaken from sleep.

Outlined in the next bed was a familiar shape. Artemus tried to sit up, but barely found the energy to role onto his side. "Jim."

"Where have you been? I thought you were dead."

Artie blinked several times. Jim's voice seemed to come out of nowhere, and the dark shape on the bed seemed to easy a thing to simply imagine. "Are you dead, Jim?"

"No." Jim answered, slightly offended at the possibility. "I'd let you know if I were."

Artie grinned slowly, his face half buried in the sheets. "I appreciate it."


	14. Epilogue

(AN: The title of this song means "In this world there is no honest peace", it's supposed to be a religious thing, but I've made it an Artie thing. Thank you everyone for reading my story! Ha! I don't consider posting one chapter at a time sneaky. It's an experience; I think it makes the story more fun to read that way. Anyway! Happy Valentines Day!)

Epilogue: Nulla in Mundo Pax Sincera - Vivaldi

Initially the Wanderer was not a welcome sight to Artemus, but he had expected that. Jim, on the other hand, was eager to return to the luxury of the train, and with Jim there Artie was overcoming the tarnished memories steadily enough. The new furnishings and his own bed and sheets helped too, but sometimes as he was turning the lamps off for the night a chill still crept through him and not even Jim standing beside him could make him forget.

"Artie, did you drown?" Jim asked coyly, rapping a knuckle on the door. "Or were you just planning to spend your whole vacation in there?"

Artie laughed without opening his eyes. Jim called it vacation. What a rare glint of boyish optimism that was. "That was the plan, but not if you keep interrupting me." Artie rose from the water and wrapped a towel around his waist. "It was getting cold anyway."

President Grant was called extended medical leave, for Jim. For Artie it was called suspension, which meant he was also suspended from his lab, the entire city of DC, and suspended from his case or any others. Yet, he was graciously permitted to have the price of the prison wall he had blown up in DC taken from his paycheck.

Small Potatoes.

His suspension also allowed him to write the report for the whole mess, and it was turning into a viable novel. Most of the parlor table was covered with notes, and the statements of Dr. Loveless, Steven Shipley, the newly resurrected James West who had surprisingly little to tell, and his own ridiculous experience. Plus a collection of newspaper articles that extended the length of the events in the most humorously inaccurate way.

Artie finished dressing and looked at himself in the mirror. The bruises were fading and the stitches were out. The doctor he had seen in Washington had commended the neat stitching job and Artie just smiled. He seemed younger looking at himself now than he had when he and Jim had arrived a few days back. It seemed he had finally washed all the pitiless vengeance out of his system and maybe a few years with it. 

"Jim! James! Hello!" He sang cheerfully and slid into the brightly lit parlor.

Jim turned a green eye on him from the table, sour faced. Artie saw the open telegraph that had been unburied from his notes. Jim's right arm was in a sling and the left held a scrap of paper. "Loveless escaped, Richmond said he had somehow managed to hide a small bomb on himself."

He waited for Artie to show some kind of reaction, but Artie was expressionless with his thoughtful eyes looking down at the floor.

Artie wasn't sure how he felt about that.

He still hadn't figured out what sort of gesture Loveless had implied by secreting those papers in his jacket. Lately Artie had spent many a bath trying to figure out when the little maniac had done it as well as why. Perhaps it was a simple thank you, or perhaps he had a more sinister reason for doing it that Artie would later regret. Yet those papers were the only reason Artemus wasn't in prison.

So he just didn't know how he felt about it, or even how he ought to feel. Surely he would spend many more baths wondering how the doctor had taken one of his bombs without him noticing. Jim looked up at him, idly fingering the cotton sling, still frustrated and waiting for Artie to say something.

"Let's make pancakes."

Jim cocked his head and smiled faintly, showing that hint of dimple that Artie aimed for. "It's dinner time, Artie."

Artie never figured out what Shipley had planned, for him and Jim, for their unfortunate clones or the millions he had collected in fake currency. Steven Shipley outlived his wounds just long enough to admit to the counterfeiting and make it perfectly clear that he hated Artemus. Even that hate seemed a thing of insanity that had materialized into a need for revenge, and Artemus Gordon was the only name the man had to work with.

Well, Artie could go insane trying to guess… or he could make pancakes. "Yeah, why not? Branch out Jim, they do it in Holland!"

Artie went to the galley, grinning. Jim waited a moment until he heard dishes and pans then stood up silently. It was funny… he had just been thinking about pancakes before the telegraph. He tiptoed to the edge of the door and peeked in.

He had accepted the doubles, because when Loveless was involved nothing surprised him. He could sympathize with Shipley's need for revenge topped by Artie's need for revenge and even that all of that somehow connected with the case they had originally been sent to Missouri to solve. But Jim was having trouble picturing Artie, his partner, the man currently waltzing through the tiny kitchen with a frying pan and a basket of eggs, spending the night at Loveless' own home without blowing it up.

He'd have plenty of time to think that over if he chose to though. Right now his biggest concern was making sure Artie didn't cause a disaster with the eggs.


End file.
